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HANDSET 
REMINISCENCES 



Recollections of an 
Old -Time Printer 
and Journalist 



\?Wgrai 



By jrBj^GRAHAM 



Printed by the 

CENTURY PRINTING COMPANY 

Salt Lake City, Utah 

1915 



3 



.(5-66/\ 



COPYRIGHTED 

By J. B. GRAHAM 

1915 



*1AK 23 laib 



'CU397266 




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THE AUTHOR 



Contents. 



Page 

THE AUTHOR Illustrationi 

EDWARD T. PLANK Illustration 

TO THE PRINTING FRATERNITY 7 

IN LIEU OF A FOREWARD. .9-13 

ONCE A HOBO 15-49 

THE UNDOING OF OLD ORMSBY 50-56 

TRIBULATIONS OF A TWO-THIRDER. . 57-66 

NEW YORK HERALD FIFTY YEARS 

AGO 67-82 

IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 83-124 

THE FIRST GREAT SILVER BOOM 125-166 

AN INSPIRED LIAR 167-175 

UNION MAN IN A RAT HOLE 176-182 

SAVANNAH JUST AFTER THE WAR. .. 183-190 

A "TOURISTS'" STRIKE 191-197 

FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 198-253 

FORTY YEARS AFTER 254-282 

MY LAST VENTURE 283-307 



TO THE MEMORY OF MY OLD-TIME FRIEND 
AND SIDE-PARTNER EDWARD T. PLANK THIS 
VOLUME IS FRATERNALLY DEDICATED. 



To the Printing Fraternity 



"Handset Reminiscences," having been pre- 
pared for your special entertainment, will be 
sold by subscription only. I am assured it will 
be read sooner or later by most printers. 
Please don't borrow it. 

I am in my seventy-sixtb year; was in the 
printing business over fifty years — carrying a 
working card about thirty, the rest of the time 
"enjoying" myself as "editor, publisher and 
proprietor" of country newspapers. 

In the spring of 1908, before the printers' 
pension law became operative, I was placed on 
the retired list of No. 115 because of disability. 
To paraphrase, my eyes were bad and my 
fingers queer. 

The incidents here sketched are true — as 
nearly to the letter as I have been able to set 
them down between regular shifts at other 
la.bor. 

I am kindly permitted to use two short 
stories and part of another which appeared 
years ago in the Inland Printer, under the head- 
ing "Handset Reminiscences," also, one that 
was published in the International Journal. 

Brethren, I shall be gratified if this book en- 
tertains you; more gratified if it deserves a big 
sale and receives it. 

Price $1.25 postpaid. Send orders to 
Yours fraternally, 

JERRY B. GRAHAM, 

214 E. Fifth South St., Salt Lake City, Utah. 

March 1, 1915. 




EDWARD T. PLANK 
"President IT. v., 1888 to 1891 



In Lieu of Foreword 



As this book is made up of ajneicidotes re- 
lating to myself, is in the nature of an auto- 
biography and there is little to explain, a fore- 
word seems hardly necessary, But In the be- 
ginning I wish to apologize for the crudities of 
my work. I was not educated for the editorial 
profession, or any other for that matter. As 
explained in one of the sketches, I took up 
the pen by sheer force of circumstances. 

I hope not to be criticised too severely. 
The greatest authors liave not always been 
those who could command faultless language. 
J. Fennimore Cooper in his day was the most 
successful American writer of fiction. Millions 
of readers were entranced by his absorbing 
creations, without discovering that often they 
were not only preposterous but execrably 
written. Even the queen of England begged 
him to give something of the earlier life of 
Leather istocking, and the result was "The 
Deerslayer," first volume of the "Leather 
Stocking Tales" though the last written. But 
Mark Twain came along, and pointed out that 
there are a score of rasping errors of composi- 
tion and misfit words in some pages of those 
stories; that in the action, for instance. Leather 
Stocking shot at a mark and with wonderful 
accuracy and a strange rifle hit a nailhead 
at three hundred paces that could not be seen 
at fifty with a spyglass; while his marvelous 
woodcraft, when stripped of romance, was in 
many details unreal and absurd. 

H. C. Williams, my successor as editor of 
the Bingham Bulletin, inserted in that paper 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the following personal after I had gone to 
California and when, as he says, I was unable 
to defend myself. I can forgive him for it, 
and even thank him, except as he In a way 
puts me in a class with Judge C. C. Goodwin, 
without doubt the ablest and smoothest news- 
paper writer the west has ever produced. Will- 
iams was a first-class printer — like myself not 
an author, born or made. If you discover crud- 
ities in his composition, as in mine, forget it. 
Tread lightly on the tacks. Let the pure gold 
intended obscure the dross. 

"When men of courage and imagination 
came into these mountain solitudes In the 
early days they became transformed. There 
was no sorbid commercialism to soil them; 
and there was nothing to check them from 
being absorbed into the spirit of the mountains 
and forests over which hovered the glamor of 
purple and gold of the setting sun, which 
men had seen from afar since the birth of 
history and have finally followed until the 
star of empire sank into the Pacific. Call it 
Colchis or California these men were of the 
heroic mold, and they will stand always heroic 
to those who follow and bring their humdrum 
world with them and transform the grand soli- 
tudes into routine. The race is dead or dying 
and most all of them will soon be 
altogether heroic. One meets relics of 
it now and then, old and gray, with 
their large hearts and lovable natures still im- 
parting the spirit of the grand solitudes which 
they absorbed a long generation ago; and so 
they will go on to the end, for the beauty 
of the solitudes that transformed them will not 
let go of them. 

10 



IN LIEU OP FOREWORD 

"The editor met a couple of these sojourners 
a dozen years ago in Salt Lake City, and if 
he mentions one of them now it is because 
he is away and cannot exercise the veto which 
his retiring dispositon would certainly impose. 
One was "Jerry'' and the other was "Judge. ' 
And it is only to the world that knows them 
not that they become plain Mr. Graham and 
plain Mr. Goodwin — in our hearts they are 
Jerry and Judge, and so only I and others 
who really know them may ever think of them. 

"When Mr. Graham severed his relations 
with the Bulletin a few days ago he closed 
a newspaper career which time had made 
romantic and to which rapid change in western 
environment has lent an element of pathos. 

"In 1903 he visited California and while 
there sought for such friends as a lapse of 
forty years might still have left. With 128 
others in 1S61 he was a member of Eureka 
Typographical Union No. 21. A record had been 
kept of their comings and goings, and most all 
of them had gone, to not return there, or any- 
where. Himself had been marked "probably 
dead." Of the whole number half-a-dozen were 
left in Frisco, and a few others were still alive 
but elsewhere. ' 

"Equally pathetic was his visit to the New 
York Herald office about five years ago. He 
had worked there in the days of the elder 
Bennett, in 1&59 and later. Out of a force of 
upwards of two hundred in that year not one 
was left, and the oldest man in the office 
dated from 1865. Mr. Graham's identity was 
established by his references to the old boys, 
who were still reverently remembered, and fin- 
ally by the payrolls bearing his name. He at 

11 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

once became the wonder of the office, and 
chaperoned by Eugene Young, a night editor, 
formerly of Salt Lake, there was a hot time 
In the old town, and the freedom of the Her- 
ald and all of its belongings were his. He 
was Invited to take some perfunctory place 
on the editorial staff, where his main duty would 
be drawing a salary. But Jerry is not built 
that way, and he returned to his post here in 
Bingham. 

"Mr. Grraham was born in Rochester, New 
York, in 1839, and began the printing business 
as "devil" in the Rochester Advertiser. From 
thence he went to New York City, and at va- 
rious times worked In the Herald, Tribune and 
World, when those papers were presided over 
by the elder Bennett, Horace Greeley and Man- 
ton Marble. 

"In 1860 he went to San Francisco (via the 
Isthmus), where he was employed on the Her- 
ald, said to have been the first paper printed 
on the coast. It had been boycotted by the 
vigilantes in 1852, but got out from under and 
lived until 1862. 

'In 1862, when the first great silver boom 
was on, Mr. Oraham went to Virginia City, and 
rode into Nevada with Hank Monk, the furious 
driver who in that year gave Horace Greeley 
a shaking up on a ten per cent down grade; 
setting type in Virginia City two years at ?1 
per thousand. Mark Twain and Dan de Quille 
were at that time local editors of the Terri- 
torial Enterprise. Mr. Graham returned to New 
York in 1865. 

"In 1871 Mr. Graham established the La- 
peer, (Mich). Democrat, which by the way 

12 



IN LIEU OP FOREWORD 

now strangely bears the legend "Established 
in 1852." 

"He went to Pitkin, Colorado, in 1881, and 
purchased the Pitkin Independent. He white 
washea himself in this venture; saw a mining 
camp of 2,000 people dwindle to i200, parted 
with $9,000 in less than four years and left the 
mountains with barely $15. 

"Mr. Graham started the Telluride, Colo- 
rado, Republican in 1887 for a company, and 
later was connected with the ^^heyenne, Wyo., 
Stock Journal. In the fall of 18'95 he purchased 
the Bulletin. 

"May 12, 1860, Mr. Graham joined New York 
Typographical Union NO. 6, and is therefore 
among the oldest union men on the Pacific 
slope. He is also a mason, and a member 
of the supreme lodge of A. O. U. W. 

"This career is a more romantic and pro- 
ductive one than to make a million and then 
retire ana be devoured by the acids of un- 
rest, and soured in spirit; for Jerry in his 
up and downs was always as his friends have 
known him — sweet in temper, generous and un- 
pretentious. If he had troubles they were soon 
buried, but his spirit would go out in sympathy 
because of the tribulations of his friends, or 
of anybody. 

"Jerry, like Judge, was born of the spirit 
of the mountains, and like them will not 
change. Those who love him most would like 
to emulate him in disposition, in faith, and in 
the personal honor which is the firmest thread 
in his nature. If you don't know these things 
you merely know J. B. Graham; you don't 
know Jerry." 

13 



Once a Hobo. 



Strictly speaking this story is out of 
place in these pages — going back as it 
does to my ante-handset days; but as it 
relates a most vivid memory, that had 
much to do with my after career in hav- 
ing bred wanderlust in my system, it is 
given with the hope that it may interest. 

Being left an orphan when four years 
old, my guardian farmed me out to an 
aunt, who was to bring me up in the way 
I should go and send me to school. 

We went to live with my grandpar- 
ents in Onondaga county, a few hours' 
ride from the then village of Syracuse — 
in a community still clinging to many 
quaint customs and the simple life of the 
early settlers. 

Grandfather's weather-beaten but com- 
fortable house was small, yet contrived to 
stow away a dozen guests in an emer- 
gency, and often seated as many at 
Thanksgiving feasts of turkey, Indian 
pudding and pumpkin pies that might 
have tempted the appetite of a modern 
epicure. All the cooking was done by a 
great fireplace, made cheery during win- 
ter evenings with blazing back-log and 
four-foot wood ; while beside it was a 

1.^ 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

brick oven in which a week's baking could 
be done at one heating. 

Grandfather's corner by the fireplace, 
sacred to him, was often encircled on win- 
ter nights by neighbors whO' came to hear 
him tell of days of frontier life in Con- 
necticut, when Indians, wolves, cata- 
mounts and other "varmints" had to be 
reckoned with; of many hair-raising 
ghosts that he had not only seen but talked 
with ; of being a lad of fourteen when the 
Revolutionary war ended, and practic- 
ing to go as a drummer boy; of seeing, 
when grown to manhood, representatives 
to congress during recess sitting bare- 
footed and coatless on the steps of the 
capitol, eating frugal lunches. (Never 
again !) 

At 8 o'clock it was me for bed, no mat- 
ter if the wraith of Tecumseh had its vic- 
tim by the hair ; and I had to go to a tiny 
attic room in the dark. After hearing a 
hair-raising story I would unloose my 
only "gallus," climb the stairs two' steps 
at a jump, and with one move shed "trous- 
ers" and land in a bank of feathers, cover- 
ing my head until nearly smothered. In 
the midst of the story-telling a pan of ap- 
ples and a pitcher of cider from the cellar, 
with chestnuts, hickory nuts, beechnuts 
or butternuts from the garret, would be 

16 



ONCE A HOBO 

set 'before the guests. Then when they 
were gone, the embers were carefully 
banked, to preserve a bed of live coals for 
morning. Matches? Tihey had just su- 
perceded the flint and steel and were rare. 

iW'hat memories! Of the days of 
spring's awakening in the maple woods, 
gathering sap to be boiled to sugar, 
amidst the cawing of crows and the wel- 
come notes of robin redbreast. Then 
there was soap-making day, when an out- 
of-doors fire had to be built, and the big 
iron kettle was in use again; lye was 
leached from fireplace ashes, saved up 
during winter in a contrivance that looked 
like a pyramid turned turtle ; and soft soap 
was made — it was soap all right, that not 
only cleansed miy hands of dirt, but of 
skin and warts. Then in November came 
the pig-sticking, with the kettle boiling 
again to scald away hair and bristles ; and 
I as a small boy was supposed to inflate 
bladders and make rattle boxes of them 
for smaller fry. 

In those days there could be no thrifty 
economy without winter stores of barrels 
of salt pork and beef. No one of the 
present has an idea of the many uses then 
for fats and tallow, albeit oleomargerine 
and kindred abominations were unknown. 
Grandma was wont to fill an old saucer 
with lard, placing a wick in it, and it made 

17 



HAI^DSET REiMINISCENCES 

a tolerable light by which she would sit 
for hours sewing and mending. Did you 
ever see or hear of a tallow dip, such as 
was used before the era of ill-smelling 
fish-oil lamps ? They were made in a cold 
room, where I had to thresh my hands to 
keep them warm, by dipping wicks — a 
dozen at a time strung on sticks — in a 
boiler of warm tallow, repeating until they 
had taken on the required coating. How 
I despised that job. Then came tin molds 
— the wonder of the time — in a nest of 
which a dozen candles, looking much like 
the present stearine variety, could be 
cast at once. Cowhide, kipskin and calf- 
skin — they were the only materials from 
which boots and shoes were made. So if 
a young lady could not abide calfskin, it 
was beaded moccasins for her or nothing. 
Here again was use for tallow — ^besides 
rendering leather impervious to wet, it 
made it pliaWe; and when mixed with 
lampblack answering for blacking, giving 
footwiear a go-to-meeting sleekness — for 
there was little real blacking. Unless my 
little kips were kept saturated some one 
had to help put them on my poor callous- 
ed feet, and it needed two men and a boot- 
jack to take them off. 

What a smell greeted one on opening 
the cellar door — an odor that was in every 
household ! There in the stairway hung 

18 



ONCE A HOBO 

a monster codfish, four feet long if an inch 
■^<no sturgeon or other execrable substi- 
tute then, costing not nuore than fifty 
cents, from which the frugal housewife 
could strip a hundred meals as needed. 
And speaking of fish, what pride I felt 
wending my way homeward from the 
old mill dam lugging a string of suckers 
and bullheads — all same catfish ! Ah, the 
joy of roaming in brown October days 
through the deep wild woods, gathering 
nuts to store in the big chest for winter! 
Many were the happy hours I spent each 
season hunting "bumble" bees' nests, 
gathering dandelions and cowslips for 
greens, and picking wild berries. 

I recall the small, unventilated, but 
dear old school house, with a single room 
of maybe 20x30 feet and an 8-foot ceiling, 
where thirty to forty pupils breathed the 
same air, and some made engagements 
with tuberculosis germs, to be kept in 
after years ; where the teacher went over 
head and ears if he ventured beyond ad- 
dition, multiplication and division into 
simple fractions; where he wore out an 
apple-tree sprout a day, and more if he 
thought they were needed ; where when a 
lad of 7, I marched proudly from the foot 
to the head of the class for spelling 
"lucre," after it had been missed twelve 

19 



HANDSET KEMINISCENCES 

times 'by twelve dull boys in their teens ; 
where we played "fox and geese" on the 
green sward before 'baseball was thought 
of; where w)e got licked by the farmer 
and 'by the teacher for hooking summer 
apples from hard-by orchards; where all 
the neighborhood, or as many as could 
crowd in, gathered to witness "David and 
Goliath," "Old Miother Hubbard" and 
other school exhibits — the nearest ap- 
proach to sure enough theatricals they 
had ever seen. 

Is life happier or more enjoyed in 
these whizzing, toot-tooting times than it 
was then ? Show me ! 

My aunt devoutly believed in the old 
saw, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." 
I had already been spoiled so she earnest- 
ly knoicked the dust out of me on an av- 
erage of twice a day until I had reached 
my ninth year. But she was always just, 
and loved me. 

My experience as a child makes me 
now a thorough believer in the virtue con- 
tained in an apple-tree spout. A gad of 
some kind was responsible for much of 
the good — if any — in my present makeup. 

What a lesson is contained in this lit- 
tle incident ! A playmate asked me to go 
a fishing with him one Sunday. I prom- 

20 



ONCE A HOBO 

ised to do so, albeit such "doings" on the 
Sabbath day were strictly interdicted. He 
called for me and I asked consent. 

"Certainly not," was the answer. "You 
know better." 

"But I promised Johnny to go with 
him." 

"You did? Then get ready," and my 
aunt placed a nice lunch in my pocket, 
and kissed me. 

That night I got a sound threshing 
for giving my word to do something I 
knew was wrong; and so it was impressed 
upon me for life that I must never give 
my word to do a thing and not do it. 

Today I not only believe in corporal 
punishment for the child, administered in 
proper spirit, but also that it was an evil 
day when the public whipping post was 
abolished. Public punishment got down 
under the hide of a culprit and brought to 
the surface any sense of shame left in him. 
It outclassed breaking roick and prison 
grub in holding criminals in check, and 
cost a heap less. 

Like most orphans I was pointed out 
as such, sympathized with and fed pie and 
cake by kindly old dames of the neighbor- 
hood, also often told that when of age 1 
was to come into a small fortune — all of 
which made my head swell faster than 

21 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

my body grew. Accordingly, the idea 
being drilled into my system that to be 
an orphan raised me to a superior order of 
being, as I became older I developed as 
a conceited, self-conscious and disagree- 
able sort of kid. But maybe early con- 
ceit made me nervy and served a good 
turn later on, for when thrown on my 
own resources I had to do and did some 
nervy things. 

In the spring of 1848 — my ninth year 
— I was sent back to the old homestead to 
spend a season with my brothers and sis- 
ters, who were leasing it from the estate. 

It was the happiest season of my life. 
With a sporty dog for a playmate, how 
the days flew by, in the woods and green 
fields and by the brook, hunting and fish- 
ing! 

"How dear to this heart are the scenes of my 
-childhood, 
What fond recollections present them to 
view — 
The orchard, the meadow and deep tangled 
wildwood, 
And every fond spot which my infancy 
knew." 

They were all there, and every picture 
as I recall it seems as bright today as 
then. But ah, the dear ones, long gone ! 

My aunt had married a lackadaisical 
sooner, who for convenience I shall have 



ONCE A HOBO 

to call uncle. Aside from having a game 
eye that made him seem like he was al- 
ways squinting along a gun barrel, he 
wasn't bad to look at; but I must believe 
she was moved to hook on to her very 
last chance, having passed to the strictly 
old maid estate. His general appearance 
suggested a habit of sitting by the fire or 
in the sun for considerable periods, gath- 
ering dust that was seldom brushed away. 
And he sang psalms through his nose. 

They came through Rochester in the 
fall, on their way to the wilds of Illinois 
to take up land, and had planned that the 
orphan was to go with them. My uncle 
had swelled me up with stories of hunting 
rabbits and prairie chickens ; and I was to 
have a gun of my own, and furnish the 
family with game. So I was crazy to 
go; but my guardian had made arrange- 
ments for my entering school, and posi- 
tively forbade it. 

That did not fease my aunt, for I was 
like a son to her. Having a will of her 
own, she took me with them. 

What is now known as the far west 
was then down on the maps as the "Great 
American Desert," and was practically 
unexplored until in the following year, 
when the rush to the gold fields of Cali- 
fornia was on. Illinois, Wisconsin and 

23 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Mlissouri were of the far west, and Kan- 
sas, Iowa and Nebraska unknown. Ohio, 
M/ichigan and Indiana were called the 
west. I refer to these conditions so it 
will be the better appreciated that a New 
York family emigrating to Illinois were 
looked upon as just about moving off of 
the known earth, and long farewells were 
said. How my uncle ever got a hump on 
to take so serious a step is more than I 
can tell. The broad acres of the plains 
did not have to be cleared, wiere rich and 
easily tilled, and it may be he thought he 
would be able to make an easier living 
there. 

The journey of that day to the far west 
is worth describing. Many made It in 
covered wagons^ — prairie schooners — 
from eastern states along the shores of 
Lake Erie and Lake Michigan through 
Ohio and Indiana, though more proceeded 
via the Erie canal to Buffalo and thence 
around the great lakes to Milwaukee and 
Chicago. The New York Central railroad 
had been extended up through the state 
to Buffalo, but railroading was expensive, 
and many could not be hired to ride after 
an engine. With simple country people 
there was a dread of the strange machine 
on wheels, and of bumping over the crude, 
badly-laid rails, of a kin with the antipa- 

24 



ONCE A HOBO 

thy of a chink for "foreign devils." We 
took the water way. 

Imagine a two-days journey from Ro- 
chester to Buffalo — seventy-eight miles ! 
After the novelty wore off there was lit- 
tle to make the time pass except dodging 
low 'bridges, sympathizing with the crip- 
pled, half-fed tow horses, and now and 
then disturbing a skunk on the towpath. 
A w(eliComed diversion was when, passing 
a tempting looking orchard, some traveler 
would jump ashore, fill his pockets with 
fruit and jump back again before the 
*'Sarah Ann" had made more than a few 
lengths. 

At Buffalo we took passage on the 
steamer ''Niagara." In size it must have 
"been a marvel of the tim,e, for there were 
on board 1,200 passengers — more than 
half in the steerage. My, that steerage 
was a bouquet! The cabin ladies soon 
became experts in keeping to windward 
of its gangway. 

In these days of forty miles an hour 
few travelers go from Biuffalo' through 
Lake Erie, the Detroit river. Lake St. 
Clair, Lake Huron, "around the horn" 
through the straits of Mackinaw and 
down Lake Michigan to the "great white 
city." One is never out of sight of land 
during the journey; and to my mind, with 

25 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the many ports and villages along the 
route, with fleets of sailing vessels coming 
and going, it affords more of interest and 
pleasure to the tourist than any other trip 
by water I have ever taken. 

Of the several lakes Erie is best re- 
m,embered, if traveled in a storm. A 
writer w'ell describes it in these lines: 

"She's shallow an' muddy an' mean, 

She's chuck full of sandibars an' such, 
She's pretty when ca'm an' serene, 

But she's never that way very much. 
You hardly kin sail by the chart, 

Her shoals keep a-shiftin' around; 
You'll think that you know her by heart 
When — crunch! an' yer boat is aground. 
She's blowsy an' bleary, 
An' nasty, is Erie 
An' alius just ripe fer a squall; 
She makes us all weary 
An' ugly, does Erie, 
The meanest old lake of them all." 

Many of our passengers disembarked 
at M'ilwaukee, then a small cluster of 
low, wooden buildings and a stranger to 
beer. Chicago itself, hardly entitled to 
be called a city, was rushed with its car- 
rying trade around the lakes. 

I remem'ber we secured a two-wheeled 
dray to transfer our baggage to a "hotel," 
distant a few hundred yards from the 
pier. En route on Clark street it got 
stuck in the mud, and was pried loose 
with rails from a zigzag fence on that 



ONCE A HOBO 

street. Who shall say it was not Abra- 
ham Lincoln himself who with beetle and 
wedge mauled out those same rails, be- 
fore he was even an humble lawyer? 

The hotel proper, built of logs, con- 
sisted of several sleeping-rooms, and a 
sitting-room, dining-room and kitchen all 
in one. It was in the rear of a small gro- 
cery, through which the guests had to 
pass owing to knee-deep black mud on 
either side; and it was doing a flourish- 
ing business. 

Between the hotel and the lake — a 
distance of about two hundred yards — 
there was only one building. Fancy a 
proud Clark street property owner of to- 
day admitting that such a condition ex- 
isted on that great thoroughfare, or any 
other of Chicago's main streets, only 
sixty-five years ago or at any other time 
since the days of Noah! 

We traveled via the Chicago & North- 
western railroad to its then terminus — the 
little village of St. Charles, on Fox river, 
ten miles from the present city of Elgin. 
That bit of road, mind you, was the only 
railroad west of Lake Michigan in the 
United States ! It had no depot or other 
buildings. At Chicago it occupied for a 
freight yard an acre or more of prai- 
rie, without even a fence around it, piled 

27 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

with immense quantities of baggage, 
household goods and merchandise, des- 
tined for St. Charles and points beyond. 
The great rush "To the West !" was on. 

Our journey to the wilderness ended 
in a lumber wagon ride to a farm about 
ten miles northwest of St. Charles. There 
was a small log house on it, occupied by 
the good-sized family of my uncle's sister. 
There being five in our bunch we had to 
hang on pegs, which stimulated my uncle 
to get another move on, in the same 
month. He rented a farm of a man who, 
lured by the gold lust of '49, started with 
his son for California overland. 

Within a week I was set to plowing, 
with a pair of frisky three-year-old steeis. 
My shoulders wiere not much higher than 
the plow handles ; though the friable soil 
being without rock or other obstruction, 
the plow when started would run itself to 
furrow end. There trouble began, for it 
being double my weight, to set it in the 
next furrow taxed my utmost strength. 
Then when the steers had made a "bout" 
and the point was out, they had a playful 
way of lifting their tails and stampeding 
for a haystack several hundred yards 
distant. 

I was kept at this soulful occupation 
for several weeks, until a considerable 



ONCE A HOBO 

field had been turned over, during which 
there was no time to think of a gun or 
hunting, and I wias more dead than alive 
with bruises and aching bones. 

To mention all the "hired man's work" 
that was imposed upon me while I was 
on that farm would challenge belief. 
Think of any lad in his tenth year, and 
you will appreciate what my size and 
strength was, and the brutal cruelty of it 
all. 

There was a public school house 
across the road from our place. Not for 
me — I didn't see the inside of it, except 
at a psalm singing one Sunday, with my 
uncle as leader. When it came to sing- 
ing "Old Hundred," that man could 
stampede a jackass. He probably had 
prize material in him for a sky pilot's as- 
sistant, but on a farm there was little de- 
mand for his kind of talent. He would 
"putter" around the barn every day until 
after dinner, then with an old shotgun 
stroll out on the prairie. ^I never heard 
him shoot. If there v^as a scrub tree in 
his vicinity I expected to see ^him lying 
in its shade, asleep or watching me. 

Soon an awful feeling of homesickness 
came over me. Sleeping or waking, it 
was ever present. Waking, I was think- 
ing of the dear ones on the old farm and 

29 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

despairing of ever seeing them again. At 
night, after crying myself to sleep, with 
"Old Jack" for my companion I wandered 
through "orchard and meadow, and deep 
tangled wildwood," and drank from "the 
'bucket that hung in the well." 

0*ne afternoon for some trivial thing 
my uncle punished me — with the toe of 
his boot. In kicking the little freckled, 
homesick lad, did he press the limit? He 
was soon given some reason to think so. 
When evening came, without waiting to 
"go after the cows" or my supper I hit 
the road. Not knowing where I was go- 
ing I wias sure on my way, running to- 
ward St. Charles. By 10 o'clock I had 
arrived there; and a kind landlord, after 
hearing my story and with doubled fists 
interviewing some black and blue boot 
prints, gave me a good supper and put 
rr^e to bed. 

It was not a restful night, for when 
dreaming I thought my uncle and his 
game eye caught up with and leered at 
me; and old Jack and I chased myriads 
of squirrels into holes and trees and lost 
them. 

I was up at dawn — that being my 
time for turning out, or being thrown out. 
As I emerged from the inn door in the 
twilight I ran against a man, who proved 

30 



ONCE A HOBO 

to be my uncle. It was noticeable that 
"he seemed more in sorrow than in 
anger" — like he was about to break out 
with "Hark from the Tombs," or some 
other mournful favorite. 

"Why did you leave home," he asked. 
"I've been riding over the country for 
you all night, until I came here." 

"I've got prints of your boot on me, 
that's why, and I'll not stand it to be 
kicked by anybody any more," I said, be- 
ginning to cry. "My home is at Roches- 
ter, and there's where I'm going." 

"But you can't travel so far without 
money, ragged and dirty. I've been 
thinking, and you must go with me now. 
Aunt is wild about you. In the fall, if 
you are a good boy, I will buy you new 
clothes and send you back to your guard- 
ian." 

He was parleying, which made me 
brave as a sheep. A feeling had come 
over me that my ears were in no danger 
that morning of being twisted. 

"Am I to be kicked any more?" 

"I was very angry, my boy, or would 
not have done that." 
"Did I deserve it?" 

"I can say no, for I'm no longer angry, 
and glad to have found you, for your 
aunt's sake." 

31 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

The landlord was standing in the door 
and overheard this conversation. 

"Is this boy your nephew?" he asked. 

"His aunt is my wife." 

"I heard you say he would have to go 
back with you." 

"Yes." 

"He don't have to," and the fists 
doubled again. "If I had room for him 
he should not stir a step. If he goes 
back, you will have to get him some 
shoes." 

"I have no money," my uncle sullenly 
answered. 

"Then come in, both of you, have 
breakfast, and I'll see about the shoes." 

When we had eaten the landlord took 
me to a store, from which I soon proudly 
emerged in red top boots and a pocket 
full of sweetmeats. As we were about 
to depart the landlord took my hand 
kindly and spoke words of encourage- 
ment. T^hen he turned to my uncle. 

"I heard you tell the lad you would 
clothe and send him home this fall. Keep 
your word by October, or I'll be out your 
way with the sheriff, and you'll wish we 
hadn't come." 

My uncle drove away without a word 
but a squint that boded me no good. 
When we reached the farm and the coast 

32 



ONCE A HOBO 

was clear, my aunt took me in her arms, 
kissed me and cried. Then she knelt and 
prayed that she might never do me a 
wrong; that I would always try to do 
right, and that my uncle might never be 
so harsh with me again. After that I 
knew she sympathized with me, which 
went a long way toward miaking me more 
contented. Though she had taken down 
the switch every day, it would have been 
all rigtit. The work given me to do from 
this time was much lighter, and once I 
was actually allowed to go a fishing with 
a young lad. Previously I had not been 
permitted to play with other boys. 

A couple of months later one morn- 
ing my uncle told me to split some wood. 
There was a pile of dry knots in the yard 
at which I had been pecking all summer, 
until it seemed impossible with my 
strength to loosen another chip. When I 
told him so he flew into a rage, and seiz- 
ing me by the hair again applied his cow- 
hides to the locality where they had be- 
fore left their marks. Then he mounted 
a horse and started for a nearby farm. 

Did he ever see that erring, freckle- 
faced orphan again? Don't you think it. 

M(y aunt was in childbed, helpless, so 
the get-a-way was easy. I cried half the 
way to St. Charles, for having to leave 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

her without a kiss or parting word. But 
my teeth were set, and all the conceit the 
old crones had planted in my system was 
turned to nerve. 

My good friend the landlord was glad 
to see me and said I should stay with him 
until he could get word from my guard- 
ian. This I would not listen to, afraid 
of another capture and surrender. On 
going to the depot and finding the one- 
train-a-day about to pull out, I went 
straight to the conductor and told him 
my story — rehearsed on the way — how I 
was an orphan, had been stolen, kicked 
and at>used, and wanted to go to my 
home in York state. He not only put 
me on board, but gave me kind advice 
and some pennies ; and so the little hobo 
was soon rumbling over the prairie, sorry 
to have left his landlord friend without a 
parting word but overjoyed with the 
thought that he was on the way. 

It must have been 2 o'clock in the 
afternoon when the train pulled into Chi- 
cago. Here a temporary depot had been 
built, and conditions were otherwise so 
changed that I lost my way directly. My 
plan was to go to the lake front and get 
passage on some kind of vessel ; for I 
knew no other way. 

I had walked some time, and my cour- 
age was beginning to ooze, with now and 

34 



ONCE A HOBO 

then a tear trickling, when I met up with 
a ibenevolent-looking old gentleman walk- 
ing with a cane and crutch. 

"What you crying for, son?" he asked 
me. 

"Nothing." 

"Then why do you cry?'* 

"I was just thinkin'." 

"What about? Maybe I can help 
you." 

He finally pried it out of me that I 
had run away, and was on my way to my 
old home at Rochester. 

"Well, for lands sake ! You expecting 
to go there alone?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Boy, don't you know Rochester is a 
thousand miles from here, and that it 
would be impossible for you to go so 
far? Why, you'd lose your way and 
never be heard of again." 

"I'm going to try," I said, and was 
about to move on when he reached for 
my collar. As he grabbed, his crutch 
slipped and down he went. After run- 
ning a few steps I looked back, fearing he 
had hurt himself. His face was very red, 
like he was angry at sitting down so hard. 

"Here, you young scalawag, come 
back." 

85 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

But I ran half a mile without stop- 
ping. After that I did not dare to ask 
questions, 'but bewildered and uncertain 
wandered on until I came to a high board 
fence, and climbed it to prospect. See- 
ing a smokestack and a vessel's rigging 
in the distance, I made for them at once. 

The rest was easy. Never did good 
fortune come more opportunely to a 
friendless lad, save in story book, sum- 
moned by fairy's wand. 

The smokestack was that of the pro- 
peller ''St. Joe," bound for Buffalo. I 
went on board, and one of the sailors 
told me she was getting up steam, to 
cast off in a couple of hours. He pointed 
out the captain, a tall gaunt man with 
kindly eyes, whose face I had to look 
nearly straight up to see. Standing 
by the hatches he was busily checking the 
last of the cargo as it was being lowered. 
Men were tugging at boxes and bales, 
and there was such an uproar I despaired 
of his hearing my tale of woe, but re- 
peated it loud and earnestly. I must 
have done myself credit ; for after waiting 
a full minute, and when about backing 
up to go over it again, he suddenly 
doubled up until his face was within six 
inches of mine, and in a shrill voice 
shouted : 

36 



ONCE A HOBO 

"What's that you. say, you young 
rat?" 

I was so scared I must have fallen into 
the hold but for his grabbing me. And I 
began to cry. 

"There, sonny," he said, "don't do that 
or we'll have bad luck. See that gang- 
way for'ard? Go down to the galley and 
tell the cook I said you are going to wash 
dishes this trip ; and try to help him every 
way you can. Scud, now, for I'm busy." 

So I was booked for Buffalo! Once 
there, I thought, hom^ would be in sight. 
It proved to be different. 

Before time for turning in that night 
the St. Joe was buffeted by a chopping 
sea, and a little land lubber had heaved 
his supper to the fishes of Lake Michi- 
gan. Sick as I was, the thought of how 
those people out on the prairie would 
marvel if they knew the boy who left 
them at 9 o'clock that morning was now 
aboard a steamer on its way around the 
great lakes. It had been really a wonder- 
fully lucky trip. I had traveled less than 
seventy-five miles; but in that distance 
the chances were many to one of my 
meeting with obstructions to detain if 
not turn me back. The average person 
on meeting me would say, "It is my duty 

37 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

to stop this child and see him returned to 
his people." Nowadays, with boxcars 
and brakebeams everywhere, kids with 
eye-teeth cut make their way across the 
continent. Then it was rare for a boy 
to go five miles from home alone, and I 
certainly must have been the pioneer 
child hobo of that date. 

The return lake trip made few im- 
pressions on me still remembered. I do 
not forget that, it being in the summer of 
1849, everybody had the gold fever and 
all on board the St. Joe — captain, mates, 
crew and passengers — were humming 
snatches of California songs. The first 
lines of one favorite were: 

"Meet me on the four square early in the 

.moTning, 
For, oh, I'm off for California right away." 

A comic one, very popular and not 
yet wholly extinct, began this way: 



"I had a dream the other night 
When all around was still, 
I thought I saw Susanna bright, 

A coming down the hill. 
The huckwheat cake was in her mouth. 

The tear was in her eye; 
Says I, I'm going to leave you now, 
Susanna don't you cry. 

Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me, 
I'm going to California with 
My wash howl on my knee." 

38 



ONCE A HOBO 

It was an agreeable variation from 
the incessant rolling and puffing of the 
old high-pressure propeller. The cargo 
was mostly baled cotton. There, was a 
terrier, a cat and plenty of rats on board, 
and my recollection is that I spent more 
time chasing over the cotton and hunting 
rodents than in helping the cook. I made 
a number of figure-four traps, and caught 
so many of the creatures the. sailors nick- 
named me ''Rat-catcher;" and as they 
were doing much damage, I got a nice 
compliment and a shilling from the cap- 
tain. 

As I awoke one morning the St. Joe 
was making fast to her pier in Buffalo. 
All on board being cheered by the pros- 
pect of soon going ashore, no one took 
notice of the little hobo, who left the 
gang plank without a parting word from 
any one. I was in a crying mood for it 
was a cold, rainy morning, all was 
strange and forbidding, and such a feeling 
of being deserted came over me I almost 
wished myself back where again could be 
heard my aunt's motherly voice. Then I 
seemed to hear a strain through the nose 
of "Hark from the Tom'bs," and it set 
my teeth again, all right. 

My plan now was to find the Erie 
canal and a boat going to Rochester. 
When at length after much trudging I 

39 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

came to what was probably a branch like 
a railroad sidetrack, I found it blockaded 
with a long stretch of empty freighters, 
like strings of cars awaiting consign- 
ments. The sight must have given me 
the impression that the canal had gone 
out of business, for I resumed my wan- 
derings and walked until I came to an im- 
mjense building, which proved to be the 
Niew York Central depot. In front of it 
was a peanut stand, with the usual spread 
of nuts, fruits, stale cakes and candies, 
attended by a poorly-dressed, cross-eyed 
man with a wooden leg, whom I recog- 
nized as having once seen at the old farm. 
Cross-eyes and wooden legs are seldom 
forgotten. My, how my heart jumped! 
He was looking at me intently. I asked 
him if he had ever lived in Rochester. 

"Yes." 

''Were you at the Graham farm once 
for a load of potatoes?" 

"Yes." 

"Do you know Mitchell Loder, the 
lawyer?" 

"Wihy, yes; and you are one of the 
Joseph Graham heirs?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Where on earth have you come from? 
Ruri away? Somebody take your clothes 
away from you?" 

40 



ONCE A HOBO 

Then I told him how I had just ar- 
rived that morning from Chicago, and 
why. He looked at me in amazement. 
After asking numerous questions he said : 

"I'll fix it so you can go on the pas- 
senger at 5 o'clock. I live over there in 
that house," pointing to a low, mean- 
looking shack. "Go tell my wife I sent 
you to split some wood, and w^hen you 
get through she is to give you something 
to eat; and be sure to be on hand when 
the train goes." 

Taking advantage of a miserable little 
waif in the interest of thrift was not al- 
together unknown in that day and gener- 
ation. 

A sharp-faced, hawk-nosed woman 
met me at the door, and in answer to the 
message pointed to a pile of poles. I 
worked at them a long time, earned a 
square meal for a couple of hungry 
adults, and showing up again the old 
dame handed me a couple of cookies. My 
memory is very clear that there were 
just two of them, hard and gritty; and 
they looked like they had been used a 
long time on the peanut stand for flies 
to roost on. I gagged, even with my 
sailor's appetite. 

At 5 o'clock the peanut man kept his 
word — fixed me, good arid plenty. He 
told me to stand on the rear platform 

41 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

until the train started, and tell the con- 
ductor when he came around I had lost 
my ticket. I did not take to the plan, but 
thought it must be all right or would not 
have been told to do it. The conductor 
eyed me sharply, and without a word 
reached for the bell rope. 

This was my first lie — on the trip. 
What an opportunity it affords me to 
moralize a little. Miy reflection is that 
had I told the truth, after my eventful 
journey thus far the conductor would 
gladly have helped me the rest of the 
way. 

I was soon sitting by the track, at a 
barren place except there was a crossing 
and the old-fashioned sign, ''Look Out 
for the Cars when the Bell Rings." It 
was my turn to cry again. I was sobbing 
'bitterly, when a man with a dinner pail 
came along and asked what was the mat- 
ter. I told him how I had been put off 
the train. 

"Serves you right, my boy. You'd 
better go back to the city and try again 
tomorrow, when there will be another 
conductor. Tell him the truth and he 
may let you ride." 

I told him I would rather sleep in a 
fence corner without my supper than go 
back to the peanut man ; then asked him 
where was the wagon road to Rochester. 

42 



ONCE A HOBO 

**This one here is the state turnpike, 
and goes directly there," he said. ''I have 
to go two miles to my place, or you might 
stay with me tonight. Out east there a 
bit is a public house. They are good 
folks and will take care of you." 

No turning back for me. After wialk- 
ing and running a couple of miles I came 
to a big white house, that I well remem- 
ber because of its high Dutch gable. It 
proved to be a wayside inn kept by two 
elderly ladies, and might have been called 
the "Twin Sisters' Rest," the ladies 
looked so much alike. 

There were no professional "tourists" 
in those days. Ways and means to com- 
bine and filch the hard earnings of com- 
mon people and make hoboes of them 
had not been formulated. After listening 
to my story the ladies did not throw m,e 
out and set the dog on me. Dirty and 
"crummy" as I was, they hugged me and 
called me a "poor dear." Then I was 
stripped, scoured in a tub of hot water, 
searched with a fine-toothed comb, 
dressed in clean linen, feasted with fried 
chicken, and laid in a nice comfortable 
bed. My last remembrance of that night 
is that as I passed into dreamland, tired 
and worn, two good angels were kneeling 
at my bedside. 

43 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

In the, morning the good ladies pro- 
posed that I should live with them; said 
they would adopt me, put me in school, 
and, in return I could be helpful to them. 
But this did not make me hesitate. So 
they gave me a bright red handkerchief 
filled with lunch, in a corner of which 
were tied four bright shilling pieces; 
kissed me and I went my way. In after 
years I often thought I would like to visit 
those kind-hearted women, but never 
found it convenient to do so. 

I walked from the wayside inn to 
Ithaca, thirty-two miles from Buffalo, and 
the tramp occupied two days. It is still 
green in my memory that when stopping 
for food or rest I was not once plied with 
doubting questions or turned away. In 
fact, from the far-western prairie back to 
the old farm my only real setback was 
when I took counsel from the peanut man 
and lied to the conductor. 

At Ithaca I was kindly cared for at 
the first hotel to which I applied, but not 
without questioning; for with a thousand 
miles of travel sans purse or scrip be- 
hind me, I was looked upon as a prodigy 
and crowds gathered to hear the story of 
my journey. One elderly, well-to-do 
gentleman, a guest of the hotel, became 
so interested that he also wanted to adopt 
me. He owned and operated a paper mill 

44 



ONCE A HOBO 

in a nearby village. Having no children, 
he and his wife lived alone. They would, 
he said, adopt me as their son. I could 
go to school, learn paper making, and if 
found worthy succeed him in the busi- 
ness. 

Of course he could not interest the 
homesick boy — adding a gun, prairie 
chickens, rabbits and all kinds of snakes 
to his layout. 

When I went to the depot there was 
a train on the track, about to pull out for 
the east. It was mostly made up of emi- 
grant "empties." The Central at that 
time was rushed with freshly landed 
Irish, German and Dutch emigrants, 
bound for all parts of the known west, 
who have since been succeeded by gener- 
ations numbered among the very best cit- 
izens of America. They were packed in 
cars resembling great red boxes on 
wheels, each car having on either side 
four windows a foot square, six feet from 
the floor. Train men who had to pass to 
and fro overhead were careful to walk in 
the center, lest the rich steerage aroma 
steaming from the little windows should 
overcome and topple them over. It wias 
so rank as to make a gray brakeman out 
of a blue one in a few hours. 

A big man with "fair round belly" and 
a double chin was pointed out to me as 

45 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the conductor. He listened to me pa- 
tiently, then bending down gave me a 
looking over and said kindly: 

**My boy, I saw you at the hotel last 
night. I believe your story, and am go- 
ing to let you ride. But listen : Just be- 
fore the train pulls out be at the front 
end of that car — pointing to an empty. I 
will come and lock you in, and when we 
stop at Rochester let you out. In the car 
don't dare to make a noise, and don't try 
to look out of a window. Understand? 
You might get me into trouble." 

"Yes, sir." 

My next recollection is of standing at 
the corner of Buffalo and State streets in 
Rochester. The old farm, as I did not 
know then, or the way to it, was about 
two miles from the spot. After asking 
many times to be directed to "the Iron- 
dequoit road" TWest North street) — no 
one knew it by that name — I had come to 
a standstill. 

While taking in the noise and bustle 
of the city's main thoroughfare, confident 
that I would soon be on the way, my at- 
tention was attracted by loud laughter di- 
rectly behind me. Turning, I saw stand- 
ing in the entrance of a stairway my 
guardian uncle. He had recognized me. 
Holding out his hand I ran to him, and 
after wiping away tears of laughter he 

46 



ONCE A HOBO 

led me without a word up to his office. 
There in answer to questions I told him 
all that had happened, and other tears 
gathered in his eyes. Gently lifting me 
on to a table, he said: 

*'My son, stand right where you are 
until I come back. I won't be long 
gone." 

The object he left standing there was 
about three feet high, marked with the 
intensely black hair of a "John Highland- 
man," Irish blue eyes, a very white, 
freckled skin — a heavy weight for my 
age. I had on a pair of well-wbrn red 
top boots with "italic heels," a pair of 
cast-off, full-grown trousers that had 
been cut off at the knees and were held 
up by one home-made suspender; a man's 
coat, with sleeves rolled to the elbows and 
tails long enough to reach the table but 
caught up here and there with pins and 
slivers ; a boy's shirt that the good ladies 
had given me, and a chip hat, with the 
top gone and my unkempt long hair 
standing up through the crown. 

Aside from the shirt, this was the rig 
in which I had started. Homiespun, with 
long nap, while I was climbing over cot- 
ton bales on the St. Joe the coat and 
trousers had taken on a striking coating 
of cotton "feathers." I had "crums" 

47 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

enough to outfit a menagerie, and all I 
needed was a month's growth of whiskers 
and a tomato can to have taken the hobo 
prize. 

Presently my uncle returned, followed 
by a dozen lawyers and doctors, tenants 
of the building. 

"'Gentlemen," said he, "let me intro- 
duce to you a young man who will some 
day be president. This is my nephew, 
just arrived from the wilds of Illinois, 
which he left two weeks ago and has 
made the whole distance alone and with- 
out a cent. He ran away from people 
there who stole him from me, because he 
wouldn't stand to be kicked." 

Just imagine that while being inspect- 
ed after that speech I was as proud as a 
pony in a circus. 

What disappiointment was awaiting 
me at the farm! After all, the magnet 
was not there. Everything was much the 
same, and my brothers and sister em- 
braced me effectionately, and listened with 
wonder; but the boy, now more than a 
year older, did not hear with the same 
ears or see with the same eyes. The 
glamour of home scenes and the yearn- 
ings that were ever with me during the 
eventful year were gone, never to return. 
A stern rebuke from my eldest brother, 

48 



ONCE A HOBO 

who shortly received a letter from Illinois, 
for leaving my aunt as I had done, did 
much to dispel whatever was left of the 
ardor of my child longings. 
I was never homesick again. 



49 



Undoing of Old Ormsby, 



When in my 15th year I was appren- 
ticed at typesetting to the Riochester (N. 
Y.) Advertiser. It was soon merged (I 
being a more or less valuable asset) with 
the Rochester Union — hence the present 
Union and Advertiser. 

Tom Flannery was foreman of the hy- 
phenated sheet. I would at this late date 
speak of him in a more respectful way, 
but do not know positively that his name 
was ''Thomias." His besetting sin was 
playing favorites. All the favorites had 
to do to get his pie v/as to kowtow, in a 
low and contrite spirit. This I declined 
to do, though to make me come through 
he imposed on me shamefully, in various 
and sundry ways. 

My work at case was a "stent" of 24,- 
000 ems, at $2.50, after which I was paid 
for all I could set the regular scale — 23 
cents per 1,000 — the total averaging 
about v$4.50 per week. 

One day when I had been rebellious 
Mr. Flannery went ahead of me to the 
copy box, and after pawing over the con- 
tents handed me a half column of solid 

50 



UNDOING OF OLD ORMSBT 

reprint (as a rule all copy being leaded), 
with about every other line italic. It 
was a calm day, but suddenly he thought 
he saw a shooting star whizzing through 
space. It was a bright new shooting 
stick, that just grazed a bald place on his 
head. Then an object flew by him which 
proved to be the devil, making for the 
door with coat and hat in hand. 

This incident explains why in 1857, at 
the age of 18 and with but two years' 
knowledge of printing, one bright day in 
June I showed up for subbing at the 
Cleveland (Ohio) Leader. I was put on 
that night 'by A. K. Cutting, and am par- 
ticular to mention his name as this man 
some time later became one of the most 
notorious rat herders of the west and did 
serious mischief with his gang at St. 
Louis, Cincinnati, Chicago and other 
points. 

The Leader force at that time, besides 
the foreman, consisted of six composi- 
tors. Cutting held the ad cases, and I 
will never forget that my first take was 
a half colum'in display ; for it was my first 
attempt at anything but straight matter. 
I got along with it very well, but not so 
wlell with the next — some unedited tele- 
graph markets. Just fancy a reprint boy 
working as a journeyman on such stuff! 

51 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Through the patience and kindness of an 
alley partner, however, I saved my bacon 
and worked on the Leader several 
months. 

A request came to the office one day 
for a printer to help out on the first num^ 
ber of a weekly paper, and I answered 
the call. The new publication was to be 
"The Spy" — a giveaway name though I 
was innocent as a babe of its meaning. 
Behind the enterprise was "Old Man" 
Ormsby, who after many years of pro- 
gressive boozing had been fired from the 
foremanship of the Daily Herald for 
dropping a form and throwing an edi- 
tion. 

Casting about for something to do, 
Old O'rmsby evolved the scheme of re- 
suscitating a vile sheet called "The Spy," 
that had recently croaked when every- 
body thought it was coining money. 

I must tell the cause of its untimely 
taking ofif, as it has a bearing on my 
story. An educated but devilish old 
dame, who had for many years been the 
managing director of a famous Cleve- 
land maison de joie, having retired from 
active life with deep wrinkles, a cracked 
voice and little money, started the origi- 
nal paper and so filled it with double- 
edged personals that it became widely 

52 



UNDOING OF OLD ORMSBY 

sought after. From her income she was 
soon enabled to array herself in fine linen 
and wear diamonds, even dabble in real 
estate ; so that unsophisticated lookers on 
got the idea that the circulation of the 
sheet was something of a gold mine. 

There were, however, many way-up 
men in that moral city — ^bankers, law- 
yers, doctors, even men of the cloth — 
who had grave reasons for suspecting that 
the mere selling of papers was a side- 
issue with the madam. Whenever the 
sheet contained a squib about the old 
maison in which the bare initials of one 
of these highly respected citizens appear- 
ed there was also a light in the window, 
and under cover of darkness he would 
make a sneak into the sanctum and sue 
for peace with a roll of bills. 

One fatal week an item appeared con- 
taining a nasty thrust at a couple of 
frisky but not bad university boys. They 
were not of the breed to stand for black- 
mailing, and took sweet revenge. On the 
night of the day of publication, the coast 
being clear, they climbed through a back 
window and with hammers played a tat- 
too on the face of the forms. Even the 
heading was obliterated. About all the 
available type was inside the chases, and 
not one escaped. A new dress being ne- 

53 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

cessary, and not knowing who had turned 
the trick and having a hunch it would be 
repeated or something as bad happen, the 
cute old dame not only concluded to go 
out of business, but incontinently went. 

Old Ormsby's plant consisted of a 
couple of cases of ''long primer," head 
letter, an inverted gravestone and 
chases. When I arrived I found the first 
and fourth pages of a five-column sheet 
mjade up with a spicy story. The old 
man showed me a/ hook full of locals and 
personals, set me to work and went and 
got drunk. That was the last I saw of 
him until the new "Spy"' made its first 
and only spiel. 

How in my ignorance I got through 
that week, with never a soul coming near, 
don't matter much. Suffice it that the 
forms went to the press office Saturday 
morning. By 10 o'clock half-a-dozen 
newsboys were out picking up easy mon- 
ey. By noon I had taken in more ''bones" 
than was my due. 

Then a young fellow whom I knew, 
white with anger, entered the office. 

"For heaven's sake, Jerry, what have 
you to do with this outfit?" were his first 
words. I told him all about it. 

An anonymous letter had come to the 
office and being short of copy I inserted 

54 



UNDOING OF OLD ORMSBY 

it. Darkly it criticised the actions of an 
estimable young lady, whose name I had 
given in full — instead of initials as Old 
Ormsby would have done. My friend 
pointed to the personal — evidently from 
a jealous rival. 

"T)hat is a dirty, lying slur on my only 
sister," he said. ''I would not have her 
see it for the world. She is an invalid, 
and the shock of such an attack would kill 
her." 

Then with a sudden frenzy, he ex- 
claimed, "Watch me !" and before I could 
interfere overturned the case rack and 
shoved the unlocked forms off the stone. 
I was taking lessons very fast about this 
time in "the art preservative of all arts." 

The fearful racket thus caused, on a 
hollow floor, was followed by a series of 
unearthly shrieks emanating from a store 
on the ground floor occupied as a gun- 
shop. The place was being tended by a 
woman in a delicate condition, while her 
husband was temporarily absent. A gab- 
ble of female voices soon succeeded the 
screams, and it transpired that when the 
husband returned he found himself the 
father of a fine, bouncing boy. 

My friend and I went down to the side- 
walk, which was raised a'bove the street 
level, just as Old Ormsb)?-, with a big 

55 



HANDSET REMINISCENiCES 

skate on was staggering up from the road- 
way. My friend hit him just once; and 
there was a sickening thud as he fell 
back in a heap and laid there. 

I felt sorry for the old man, so the next 
day with another printer sought him out. 
His was the most startling pair of black 
eyes I ever saw. Compared with them a 
colored patch on a white vest wouldn't 
be noticed. He was standing by his gate, 
trembling from the debauch but sober, 
and beside him was his poor, devoted 
wife, with a hand on his shoulder and a 
far-away gaze. She looked to me like 
there wasn't a bite to eat in the house, 
so I slipped a small bank note into her 
hand. 

When I said to him ''Let's go and 
brace up," you ought to have seen that 
old man hike for a corner grocery near 
iby. (In those days every well-regulated 
grocery had forty-rod on tap. It cost $3 
and $3.50 a barrel and retailed at 3 cents 
a drink.) He had to rest his elbows on 
the counter wlhile he lifted in a tumbler- 
ful. 

That was the last time I saw Old 

Ormsby. I never even heard of him after- 
wards, but am fain to believe this enter- 
prise compassed his last and only exper- 
ience as an outputter of disreputable 
sheets. 

56 



Tribulations of a Two-Thirder, 



The only time I ever played an en- 
gagement as a two-thirder was in the fall 
of 1858. I had just arrived in New' York 
from Cleveland, with less than three 
years' experience at case, and was timid 
about showing up at the big newspaper 
offices. So I applied for work at John 
F. Trow's office, then on Broadway near 
Canal street, and was given cases on a 
city business directory. The measure was 
10 ems, type 6-point; style included italic 
in nearly every line and blackface galore. 

Trow's office, though the leading book 
and job office of the city at that time, em- 
ploying twenty to thirty men, was con- 
ducted on the short-of-material plan, 
difficult to explain in these days of ela- 
borate plants and type thoroughly sorted 
in the interest of economy. 

Black face classification heads, occur- 
ring in every fev^ lines in the directory, 
had to be set with half of the letters 
turned, and this was so also with the 
italic and black face body letter. My 
cases when given to me were level full 
with the exception of half-a-dozen em'pty 
boxes, while not a sort could be begged, 
borrowed or stolen. All I could do was 

57 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

to "dis" a couple of handsful and then 
set them out, using a rule without ears 
and a stick dating back to the time of the 
Dutch settlement. 

At the end of the week, when I had up 
four galleys — not to exceed 20,000 at 20 
cents per — I learned that the ghost 
walked but once in twjo weeks; and I 
owed $3.50 for board. Not a proof had 
been pulled, I was supposed to right the 
turned letters, and I foresaw it would 
take about half of the next week to get 
my little dab ready for the stone. 

'Nevertheless, I showed up Monday 
morning. Shortly after *'time," while I 
was pounding away I saw something 
flash between my feet. It was a $2.50 
gold piece. Quietly picking up some 
"feathers" I also picked up the money 
and put it in my pocket. Pretty soon 
came a wieak-eyed fellow from the ad- 
joining 'alley with a broom and stirred 
up a lot of dust under the racks, where 
a broom had not been in months, if ever. 
He said nothing to me but explained to 
my side-partner that he had dropped a 
small gold piece. , 

At that moment I was under a tempta- 
tion born of desperation. I was broke, 
my landlady seemed to have talons like 
an eagle, and it was a cinch I could not 

58 



TRIBULATIONS OF A TWO-THIRDER 

last the week out with her. Miy sympathy 
has ever been with the poor, careworn 
boarding-house keeper who spends her 
time in the kitchen and lets the business 
end run itself. Tjhis was not one of that 
kind. No one delinquent could eat her 
head off. The sitting room was the front 
end of a double parlor with folding doors, 
and she occupied the back part. This 
latter was called by the guests the "draw- 
ing room," for behind its doors she drew 
money or blood from a delinquent. If 
blood, after the process he sneaked out 
of a side entrance and was seen no more. 

One night I saw and heard something 
that made me feel awful. The doors 
swung open and there stood the landlady 
with eyes glaring, like a witch in Mac- 
beth crooking her fingers at a poor devil, 
who looked like he would collapse as he 
answered the summons. The lovesick 
girl ceased singing ''Only Thou," the 
game of four-handed cri'bbage suspended, 
the gabble ceased, and a death-like 
silence ensued except that the children 
began to cry. Then a shrill, high-keyed 
voice prevailed in the drawing room for 
about fifteen minutes, the side door 
opened and closed, and all was still again 
save for hysterical sobs from within. 
Next? Not me. 

59 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

There were a number of favorites in 
the office including the fellow who drop- 
ped his coin. During lunch hours I had 
visited his frame and seen that he was 
working on an edition of Shakespeare, 
set in 6-point, with 2-point leads. To 
make me jealous, I presumed, he informed 
me he had been working for more than 
a year on like matter — editions of Burns' 
and Byron's works, etc. To me he was 
a bloated coupon cutter. Securing his 
address from the office register, I re- 
solved to keep the godsend until I could 
make some money and return it. 

That night I appealed to a benevolent 
brakeman on the Hudson River Railroad, 
and started in a freight car for my home 
at Rochester. O'n the trip my chief 
amusement was making calculations on 
about how much John F. Trow would 
be ahead if a time hand corrected my 
week's work. 

Some time later, when I was burning 
midnight oil, "a student o'er the dreams 
of sages," a copy of that identical Trow 
edition of Shakespeare fell into my hands. 
It was a neat, gilt-edged volume, finely 
printed ; but I could take no comfort con- 
ning its pages because of a piece of money, 
that, like Macbeth's dagger, cavorted 
around and obscured the pages. Though 



TRIBULATIONS OP A TWO-THIRDER 

my conscience was relieved, after diligent 
search for that address it transpired that 
I had lost it, and the wrestler of fat mat- 
ter never recovered his wealth. 
4 ± 

During my "engagement" at Trow's 
the misery was not constant, thanks part- 
ly to my last fifty cents. 

A typesetting machine being operated 
in the office so challenged my curiosity 
that I spent lunch hours watching its 
movements. Three men and a boy were 
required to run it — the product of their 
labor being about 6000 per hour of "small 
pica" — 11-point. There was a hopper- 
like receptacle for each type, fromi which 
they were released by means of a key- 
board into slots that met at a common 
center. Here they were dropped by a 
peculiar device feet first on an endless 
tape, which carried them to a galley-like 
contrivance also moved by the keyboard, 
on which they fell through a groove face 
and nick up, in single file. When the 
galley was full it was replaced mechan- 
ically with an empty one. Then with 
stick and rule a man proceeded to break 
up the long line into lines of any re- 
quired measure. 

If you should want to know how the 
types were taken down, and so placed in 

61 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the hoppers that they could with accur- 
acy be freed one at a time, don't ask me, 
for it was a secret I did not find out. It 
may be this machine was tried first and 
last at Trow's, for I never saw or heard 
of it afterwards. It was certainly an in- 
genious piece of mechanism, since it ac- 
tually set real type faster than it can 
be done by hand. 

4 ± 

The first steam fire engine ever seen 
in New York was exhibited on Broad- 
way near Trow's while I was there. It 
was invented and made in Chicago, but 
I do not recollect the name of it. Great 
crowds witnessed its operation. Strange- 
ly, it did not seem to particularly attract 
the attention of hand machine firemen. 
They little dreamed that the old hand 
engine, of which there werd scores in the 
city manned by companies of 100 to 300 
men, would give way to steam, power and 
soon become relics of the past. 

The great volunteer companies of the 
larger cities of those days had to be 
reckoned with by politicians and place 
hunters. The political party standing in 
with the majority of them usually won 
out. But as the big companies were in- 
tensely jealous of each other, especially 
of the relative merits of their engines, 

62 



TRIBULATIONS OF A TWO-THIRDER 

it was difficult to herd them in the same 
political corral ; so that the power they 
could have wielded was often lost. It 
was just as wiell, for the membership was 
largely made up of "plug uglies," as the 
'bruisers were called, and questionable 
•characters. A state firemen's tourna- 
ment, at which prizes were given for the 
highest streams of water thrown, was 
considered one of the biggest entertain- 
ments with which a city could be favor- 
ed. The companies were on their good 
behavior under penalty of being barred, 
but all the same, as during the visitation 
of a circus, the citizens prudently remem- 
bered to fasten their doors and windows. 
Tjhe company called "Big Six," man- 
ning a double-decker engine and able in 
an emergency to summon 300 men to the 
drag ropes, always came out ahead in a 
fight, in which whole companies would 
engage. No other engine could take the 
water of "Big Six" and stay with it. Each 
man carried a hook in his belt, as did 
most other firemen for that matter. When 
two engines were about to pass each 
other on a cobble pavement the ropes 
were dropped and every man dug up a 
cobble stone with his hook. Then they 
resumed the ropes and the long files sul- 
lenly moved on. If one stone was thrown 

63 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

it was the, signal for a melee, and the 
harvest would often be a dozen broken 
heads, sometimes fatalities. The spirit 
prevailing among firemen was well ex- 
pressed at a meeting of "Big Six," when 
the subject of repainting the engine was 
under discussion. Motions had been made 
favoring different colors, when a member 
in a back seat arose and said : 

"Mr. Chairman, fer me, I don't care 
what color de macheen am painted so 
long as its de color of blood." 

It is worthy of recalling that when 
volunteer fire departments fairly domin- 
ated the larger cities, staid old Philadel- 
phia was credited with having the ban- 
ner fighting department, while Baltimore 
lined up as a close second. 

± ± 
Just below Canal street on Broadway 
was a large public hall, so in disuse as 
to have been almost forgotten, when one 
morning its former prominence was sud- 
denly recalled by an immense streamer 
stretched across the street in front, bear- 
ing the figure of a beautiful mermaid. 
T/he picture was quite a work of art; 
must have cost hundreds of dollars. It 
having been profusely announced by the 
press and flaming posters that P. T. Bar- 
num, at great expense, had brought from 

64 



TRIBULATIONS OF A TWO-THIRDER 

Japan the only mermaid ever landed on 
American soil, and would exhibit it at 
this hall, when the doors were thrown 
open thousands of people fairly fell over 
each other to get front seats at fifteen 
cents each, and I was in the crush. Be- 
hold, there were no seats, front or back, 
and not a sign of any kind of furniture 
except in the center of the vast room was 
a small table. On this table stood a 
glass globe about eighteen inches high, 
in which, fastened to a pedestal, was 
about as disgusting an object as I ever 
saw. It was the head (sans eyes), arms 
and trunk of a dried monkey, to which 
some Jap had attached the tail of a fish, 
so ingeniously that close inspection could 
not detect just where they were joined. 
It took about a minute to view the lay- 
out, everybody turning away with a broad 
grin that lasted into the open air — ver- 
ifying Barnum's famous comment that 
the American public likes to be hum- 
bugged. 

I was one of the first victims. The 
attraction lasted nearly a week, during 
which the greatest of showmen salted 
away many thousands of dollars. On the 
last afternoon, when the attendant had 
been called away a moment, some joker 
raised the case and stuck a cigar stub in 

65 



'HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the "mermaid's" mouth. Perhaps this 
was taken as a hint that the public had 
been sufficiently worked for once — that 
the big grin was about to make way for 
a big growl — and the show closed. 
i ± 

One night I was permitted to mingle 
with ''the gods" at Laura Keene's theatre, 
where "Our Am'erican Cousin" was hav- 
ing its first great run. It was one of the 
cherished privileges of my life to see on 
this occasion the original great cast — 
including Laura Keene, Joe Jefferson, 
the elder Sothern and Burnett. Sothern, 
peaked at having been assigned an in- 
significant part, had put his soul into it, 
given it a conception entirely his own, 
and already made Lord Dundreary the 
talk of the city. 

As will be remem'bered, it was while 
witnessing this play (with the same cast) 
that seven years later President Lincoln 
was assassinated in Ford's theatre at 
Washington. 



66 



New York Herald Office Fifty 
Years Ago. 



Looking backward fifty years, the up- 
to-date printer and machine man can 
hardly conceive of the amount of labor, 
the skill and clocklike regularity that 
were essential in producing the high-class 
eight-page metropolitan dailies of those 
times. For, while improvements have 
been made that it would now be impossi- 
ble to get along without — such as the 
linotype, the perfecting press, the ster- 
eotyped page, and lightning methods of 
illustration — there were dailies of the 
fifties that in my judgment were artistic- 
ally and mechanically superior to some 
of the top-heavy, yellow sheets of the 
present rating as first class. A twelve- 
page edition then was miore difficult to 
produce than forty-eight pages now. 

Take the New York Herald, for exam- 
ple. It began publication in 1836 with 
four pages, four twelve-inch columns to 
the page. Twenty years later it was 
printing eight seven-column pages, and 
a little later special editions of twelve 
pages were made possible by the Hoe 
six-cylinder press — a marvel of "speed" 

67 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

■ — ^and noise. Before the civil war ended 
the Herald had two ten-cylinder presses 
in commission, with which it distanced 
all competitors by printing editions of as 
high as thirty-two and even forty pages. 
In the fifties the news was set in "non- 
pareil," ads. in "agate" and editorials and 
Sunday stories in "minion." All ads. 
began with a two-line initial and first 
line in caps. The only display permitted 
was caps and broken lines. Such a thing 
as a two-column ad. was an unheard-of 
abomination, and would have been an 
outrage on all accepted rules of typo- 
graphy. When the double-column ad. 
w^as first "evolved" it read across two 
columns, but the full column rule had 
to go in just the same. Not a lead or 
slug was allowed in advertising. If a 
patron wanted "a spread" he could pay 
for as many three em dash lines, or 
"miseries," between lines as he liked; or 
he could repeat lines any number of 
times. 

Repeating was a favorite display used 
by Dbctor Helmlbold, of buchu fame — 
the greatest advertiser of his time except 
P. T. Barnum. Once he proposed to fill 
the first page of the Sunday Herald with 
"Helmbold's Buchu is an ^Unfail- 
ing Remedy^ — ' — for Kidney Troubles" 



FIFTY YEARS AGFO 

— each 'broken line to ibe in caps, thirty 
times, with a three-em-dash line between, 
to make a column — the next column the 
same, and so on, miaking a page of solid 
ag-ate type. What resulted illustrates the 
severe rules the Herald management was 
obliged to enforce. At 2 o'clock Satur- 
day the doctor applied for the space and 
cost. He was informed that the price 
for one issue would be $1,250, but that 
he would have to wait until 4 o'clock 
before the advertising could be accepted. 
"What," he shouted, pompously, ''do you 
mean to intimate that Doctor Helmbold's 
advertising may be declined? I propose 
to occupy the first page tomorrow if I 
have to pay $2,000 for it." Being in- 
formed by the manager that the mere 
matter of pay cut no figure^ — that the 
advertising space was already well filled 
with regular and small ads. (a twelve- 
page edition being the limit at that time) 
— the doctor smoothed his feathers. His 
ad. did not appear. 

There were forty-eight piece cases on 
the Herald in 1858, besides ship-news, 
market and head departments. The price 
for comiposition was 33 cents — fair con- 
sidering that in many interior cities like 
Cleveland, Buffalo, Rochester and Al- 

69 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

bany but 20 to 25 cents was paid. 
The up-country price for tolerable 
board and room was $2.50 while in 
New York it was around $3.50 per 
week. A fair suit of "hand-'mfe-downs" 
could be had for $9 to $12. My 
judgment is that 33 cents then was better 
than 55 now; for board, lodging and quite 
glad togs complete, with an assortment 
of 3-cent slugs of booze on the side, could 
be paid for vv^ith a ringer. The average 
string was about nine thousand-^-nearly 
$21 for a full week. 

But say, what do you fellows who drop 
your sticks in the middle of a line when 
the eight-hour jig is up know about 
work? Let me tell you aibout the real 
thing. A slave representing cases on the 
old Herald had to show up at 11 in the 
morning. That was an unwritten law, 
that needed no frowning monarch to en- 
force. There were preliminary bouts be- 
fore distribution requiring attention. You 
applied to the stoneman, who handed you 
a galley of nonpareil and another of agate 
or agate and minion mixed. No need to 
handle them carefully, for you could 
throw a whole column across the office 
and hardly jar loose a "feather." The 
type had been locked in turtles and 
soaked to the last nick with ink as thin 

70 



FIFTY YEARS AGTO 

as was possible to use — for the presses 
had to fly to cover the big editions . 

Resting a galley on his case, the print- 
er first loosened up the type a little with 
a wooden *'masher" (built something 
like a potato masher), by lifting slightly 
several lines at a time, between the 
thumb and finger, and manipulating them 
with the mfasher — a tedious process. The 
galley, which was of lead and locked with 
lead side-stick and quoins, was then 
taken to a tank fifty feet long, which con- 
tained lye to a depth of about four inches 
and was a general depository for all 
hands — each slugging his galleys, noting 
their relative position and allowing them 
to soak for one day. Galleys deposited 
the previous day were then taken out, 
and after a thorough rinsing, were ready 
for distribution. Working in the lye 
gave one's nails a chronic "Chink" tint. 

At 1 o'clock typesetting was begun, 
that is, by one-third of the gang, which 
was divided into three phalanxes — ^the 
second one beginning at 2, the third at 
3, and each working two hours. At 3 
the first division would resume distribu- 
tion, which the third would complete be- 
fore composition. Thus, by 5 o*clock, 
six hours 'had been put in on each case. 
From 5 to 7 was given to rest and re- 

71 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

freshment, during which many were 
prone to catch an hour's nap. Then be- 
gan the sure-enough day's work, a steady 
pull of at least seven and often nine 
hours, barring half an hour for lunch at 
low 12, when "Old Wheezy Jane," carry- 
ing a corpulent basket and a tank of hot 
coffee, would come staggering up and 
nearly fall dead on the fifth landing — 
for the elevator had not then been thought 
of, or even dreamed of. 

There was little richness in the way 
of fat takes and premium^s. Ringers were 
the exception. The stayer whO' could 
put in two weeks in succession was 
tough. There were several iron men who 
could stand it to stay three and even four 
straight weeks. But when they "fell," 
it was for a month's booze at least. 

No one familiar with the routine of a 
morning daily marveled at the proverbial 
dissipation of the old-time printer. He 
came from under the hot gas-light in the 
morning, exhausted and pale as a church 
bedbug. No wonder his coppers got hot 
pretty often. He needed rest, but was 
prone to substitute stimulants and forget 
the downy couch. 

In the Herald the "ghost" walked Sat- 
urdays, exactly at high 12. By low 12, 
probably not less than sixty per cent 

72 



FIFTY YEARS AGFO 

of those not working were well jagged up 
while the workers, largely subs., lifted a 
few on the way home. 

The hundreds of subs, who sojourned 
around "Printing House Square," where 
were most of the daily offices, were jok- 
ingly divided into three grades, called 
the first, second and third boards. Mem- 
bers of the first were reliaible, the seconds 
were all right if sober, while no recog- 
nized third-boarder would sully his re- 
putation by showing up so long as he 
knew where he could get another beer, 
and the regular who put him on was held 
responsible if his cases went dark. 

Speaking of dark cases reminds me of 
some funny incidents. Vacating cases 
without permission meant discharge with- 
out notice. One night an ''old standby," 
who had taken some too many, tried to 
beg off, saying he wouldn't be as good 
as a wooden man. Being told that every 
case had to be represented that night, if 
only by ai stick of wood, he stood a piece 
of cordwood against his rack, turned on 
the gas and lit out. When the foreman 
came around and saw the "wooden sub," 
he grinned a grin that meant that the 
ruse had won. 

Another of the boys who made the 

73 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

ancient excuse, said he might as well be 
dead for all the good he could do, but 
was handed the ultimatum that some 
one alive or dead miust be on his cases. 
He went into the street, and, hailing a 
green Irishman, asked him if he wanted 
to make a dollar. 

"Sure," was the reply. 

Mike was piloted to No. 17, shown how 
to hold the stick, told to imitate the mo- 
tions of his neighbors whenever the boss 
came around, and a piece of dead manu- 
script was laid on the case. After awhile 
his peculiar movements attracted the no- 
tice; of the foreman, who asked him what 
was the matter. 

"Well, sor," replied Mjike, "it's a hen 
must-a done that writin' wid her two 
feet." 

The trick was so nervy that nothing 
came of ' it, but, a little later, another 
philosopher who tried it hit the pave. 

The Herald for many years occupied a 
five-story building and basement at the 
corner of Nassau and Fulton streets. In 
1867 it removed to a handsome structure, 
built expressly for its use, on the corner 
of Ann and Broadway, in the same block, 
the site having been made vacant by the 
burning of Barnum's museum. This fire 

74 



FIFTY YEARS AGO 

destroyed what was no doubt the largest 
and most valuable exhibition of curios 
ever seen in this country, up to that time, 
P. T. Barnum having spent large sums 
and much of his life in collecting them. 
They crowded five stories of a great 
building, and burned like tinder. I am 
about to relate some incidents connected 
with this fire, but, in passing, should 
mention that quite a number of years ago 
the Herald moved up town to its present 
location, at about Thirty-third and Broad- 
way. 

When time permitted, the Herald 
printers were wont to repair to the roof of 
the old office for a bit of fresh air. One 
morning about 11 o'clock several of us 
who had gone to the roof noticed dense 
smoke issuing from a small restaurant 
occupying the inside (Ann street) corner 
of the museum building, where we often 
went for lunches. This restaurant was 
noted for having folding doors opening 
into the museum for the convenience of 
the "fat lady," who hit the beam at 550 
pounds, more or less ; also, for a prodi- 
gious bench, built of two-inch oak plank, 
expressly for the lady's use. 

When she dined a crowd was attracted ; 
but the smoke that morning proved a 
better drawing card, for, in a minute an 

75 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

excited mob blocked Ann street. We 
made a rush for the pavement, though by 
the time we arrived it seemed like the 
whole building was in, flames, so dry and 
inflammable were its contents. 

I elbowed my way through Fulton 
to Blroadway, where the heat was so 
fierce that the crowd, packed like sardines 
in a box, had to back down to the next 
corner. Here a cry suddenly arose that 
the lions, tigers and big snakes had es- 
caped from their cages and were loose 
on Broadway. 

Talk about a stamipede — you ought to 
have seen that mob getting away, with 
my hat, coat tails and temper. Directly 
ahead of me was a handsome, richly 
dressed young woman, held a prisoner by 
the crush. A big brute of a fellow had 
jammed one of his feet through her dress 
and tilting hoops (they were a la mode), 
and she was borne to her knees. In a 
minute she would have been trampled 
to death, but I had the presence of mind 
to grab her around the waist, and tear- 
ing her loose by main strength, I carried 
her along until the rush subsided. 

Without even a hat with which to 
shade my eyes, I then had to take no- 
tice that about all she had on was a neck 
ribbon and shoes. I wrapped my coat 



FIFTY YEARS AGO 

around her, though it wasn't much good 
with the tails gone. A *'cop" helped me 
to put her in a cab, and took her home. 

I was painfully modest in those days, 
or this might have proved the beginning 
of a life romance. I never saw nor heard 
of the girl again. 

James Gordon Bennett, St., in his de- 
clining years was generous, but irascible 
and sharp after what was legitimately 
his due. In these qualities he had none 
the best of Phineas T. Bamum, who prid- 
ed himself on being *'the czar of all the 
showmen," which he truly was, and as 
such courted acknowledgment. Because 
of adverse criticism or some business dis- 
agreement, a war to the knife broke out 
between the two, and for a long time the 
latter not only did not patronize the 
Herald, but over announcements in other 
papers printed the legend, "Barnum's 
does not advertise in the New York Her- 
old." 

This fight was on when the museum 
burned. While the ruins wiere still smok- 
ing M'r. Bennett fell in love with the 
site and determined, if possible, to secure 
it. Negotiating with his arch enemy be- 
ing out of the question, he employed a 
discreet agent, who effected the purchase. 
The price paid was said to be $1,100,000, 

77 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

about $1,000 per front inch on Broadway. 
Mr. Barnum was really delighted to get 
rid of the ground, as it was no longer 
good for his business, the residence por- 
tion of the city having started on its 
travels up town ; but when he learned 
that the canny old Scotchman of the Her- 
ald was its real purchaser, his wrath 
knew no bounds. He tore his hair, it was 
said. The longer he brooded over it the 
madder he got, and his critics were mean 
enough to say the incident soured the 
rest of his life. 

Among Herald "notables" during my 
time 'Superintendent Wm. Smythe was 
in the lead. During business hours he 
was "Mr. Smythe," strictly on his job, 
and knew nobody. Out with the boys 
until daybreak, he was plain "Bill," want- 
ing to fight the man who called him 
"Mister," was hale fellow well met with 
us all, and never missed a "straight." At 
peep of day he would go to sleep in a 
chair backed up against the wall, sit one 
hour, then perform his morning's ablu- 
tions, drink a cup of black coffee, and 
show up at his desk bright as a dollar. 

Then there was Dick Kimber, very 
old and peevish but digging at case for 
a 4,000 string, who in 1836 made up the 

78 



FIFTY YEARS AGfO 

first formis of the Herald; Jack Watson, 
with "fair round belly with good capon 
lined," whom we called ''J^'Ck Falstaff," 
for he took in hand every new "Prince 
Hal" who came to the chapel and gradu- 
ated him as a rounder; "Old Fegee," a 
reformed sailor, who was shipwrecked 
many times and for years marooned on 
a South Sea island; Bill Leaning, with 
a record of setting on a fifty-dollar bet 
125,000, regular hook copy, in seven 
days regular time — the average string 
having been not more than 60,000. 

With a question mark I shall always 
recall "Slug 11" because it was repre- 
sented by an odd genius, who lives in my 
memory as a mystery. In the office we 
became quite chummy, and I had reason 
to feel he was square and true. I do not 
remem^ber to have ever met him outside 
of the composing room,, or of knowing 
him by any other name than "Speck" — 
presumably a nickname, as his face was 
a mass of freckles. He was a skinny 
little fellow, weighing not more than 120 
pounds, and I remember among his other 
oddities that when at case he habitually 
wore a red handkerchief tied loosely 
about his neck. 

One day he told me in strict confidence 
that he came from a noble English fam- 
ily; that when a youth he was obliged to 

79 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

fly from home and native land for killing 
a man, and that some time with more leis- 
ure he would tell me all about it — ^but 
never did. 

At this late day, with my eye teeth cut 
and gone, I am inclined to believe this 
burst of confidence was a creation, out of 
which he got more or less quiet enjoy- 
ment. Biut I am now betraying it, mys- 
tery or no mystery, for the first time. 

"Speck" usually worked a week, then 
was off a week or ten days. It's a cinch 
that while away he indulged in a weak- 
ness for "nose painting;" for when he 
came on the fine, aquiline handle to his 
face was always very red, while other 
features to the back of his neck had a 
tint of the same — somiething between the 
rich brown of a ham and a sunset glow. 
Another indication was that for the first 
two or three days he was very nervous, 
blue and irritable. 

His cases were next to the dump. 
Wihen some other bundle of nerves pied a 
line in emptying. Speck would jump, may 
be pie one himself, and yell "Chick, 
chick, chick! give 'em water and clean 
the coop!" — or something like. When oc- 
casionally a whole stickful was pied, he 
nearly landed with his feet in the space 
box, figuratively speaking. "My God!" 

80 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

he would shriek, "why didn't you tie a 
string around it ? Somebody get the dish- 
pan and a broom,! Was your necktie in 
it? Call the cops." 

These outbursts, often several times 
of a night, furnished plenty of amuse- 
ment, and mingled with his naturally 
genial disposition made him popular. 

Recently an account of the death of 
''Speck" White (otherwise Arthur Fennel 
White) was published. In a sense it was 
meet that my dear old Speck should have 
'been named "White," for being at times 
very red and very blue, his "banner" 
would thus have represented all of the 
national colors. 

He died at New Haven, Conn., 
where he had spent some of his later 
years, and is credited with having writ- 
ten the following appeal for forgiveness 
when he knew there w^ere but a few 
weeks for him to live — 

"I ask forgiveness for none of the 
deeds or misdeeds of my charity syndi- 
cate, but for one thoughtless act. I feel 
and have always felt extreme sorrow for 
my Bioston transgression of the live cod- 
fish eyeball, which in my trembling right 
hand I showed in sorrow, wlith a red 
handkerchief over my good eye, to Bos- 
ton tight-wad printers to raise the wind 

81 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

when all else had failed. In honor the 
Boston Herald chapel raised $60 for a 
new eye. I had plenty of eyes, except 
red eyes, so I transferred the appropria- 
tion to the department of ways and 
means ; and was 'by this overt act ostra- 
cised from the city of beans and intel- 
lectuality. I ask Boston's forgiveness. I 
was never proud of the experience. It 
was the most remarkable piece of pan- 
handling of ancient or modern typo- 
graphical history." 

I believe my dear old Speck of the 
Herald had the genius and nerve to turn 
a trick like that. The Boston Herald 
chapel should now have the further 
charity to resolve that he was merely the 
victim of an uncontrollably playful na- 
ture, and let it go at that. 



S2 



In the Early Sixties, 



The glamor that lingers around tales 
of the diggings days of California and 
trials and struggles which beset most of 
the argonauts in journeying thither 
makes them of abiding interest. 

I was not a 49er, nor yet a 59er, am not 
a past master at story telling, and have 
no hair-raising incidents to relate, yet 
trust this sketch of a trip to San Fran- 
cisco in the near early days and my ex- 
periences enroute and on the coast may 
not lack in interest. 

Leaving New York City in the latter 
part of November, 1860, I passed through 
the Golden Gate via Panama some days 
before Christmas. Having reached New 
York from Rjochester but a couple of 
hours before the steamer North Star was 
to cast off for Aspinwall (now Colon) I 
had to hustle. Including several com- 
panies of soldiers and their officers over 
twelve hundred passengers were booked, 
and every berth was taken. Rather than 
wait two weeks for the next steamer, I 
decided to take chances — ^bought a second 
cabin ticket and went aboard. 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Hand baggage, boxes and bundles were 
so piled up in the cabins it was some time 
before I could find even a seat. Time 
for "turning in" having arrived without 
any regular movement being made to 
straighten things out I began to be 
fidgity, and taking a flask from my grip 
was about to ''brace up," when a waiter 
hove in sight. At a glance he had been 
on a big skate — looked awful shaky and 
despondent. The thought struck me I 
might turn Good Samaritan and profit by 
his misery. 

"Hello, Jack," I hailed. "What's gnaw- 
ing? You look like you are about all 
in." 

"You've got me. I'd give' my interest 
in heaven for something to steady my 
nerves, and can't get a sup aboard this 
ship. There's strict orders at the bar not 
to let any of the help have liquor, and 
it's a 'fire' to panhandle a passenger." 

"Then it's lucky I hailed you. Here's 
a bracer, right now, in spite of the regu- 
lations." 

He snatched the bottle, but after a 
long pull was profuse with apologies and 
thanks. 

"Never mind that stuff," I said. "But 
see here, I haven't even a berth — all sold 
before I got my ticket. When you can, 

84 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

-clear a sofa for me so I can lie down. 
At mlidnight hail me for another life- 
saver, and in the morning I'll fix you 
again. Meanwhile keep your eye skinned 
for a vacant berth, overlooked. I'll give 
you $5 for one." 

I got the sofa and a blanket, all right. 
Trust to Jack's not forgetting the mid- 
night appointment. As he turned away 
he said: 

"I'll do the very best I can for you 
tomorrow, never fear. There'll be rough 
weather before morning. A sou'easter 
has struck us. If you don't want to be 
sea-sick, take brandy at short intervals. 
It's a preventive, though I'd advise you to 
let natu/re take its course — you'll feel bet- 
ter afterwards." 

I took the brandy, and was not sick 
that night or during the voyage, with the 
result that for three months I had little 
taste and no appetite. The sea had 
turned me upside down and so left me. 

The next day, thanks to Jack, I was 
located in the lower berth of a hurricane 
deck stateroom — a $225 layout, as against 
my $150 second-class passage. T grate- 
fully tendered Jack the $5. He looked 
insulted. A tip didn't fit the case, as he 
saw it. It is such a pity that his breed 
of waiters, like the dodo, is now extinct. 

85 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"You must take me for an ingrate/' he 
said. "You saved my life last night, for 
I'd a died afore morning. If there's any- 
thing else I can do for you, jog me." 

After "morning m^ess" I took a stroll 
on the main deck and brought up at the 
steerage, where the many third-class pas- 
sengers were adjusting themselves to the 
discomforts and not many comforts of 
roughing it at sea. Happily for them 
this trip was to end in eight days, when 
transferring by railroad across the isth- 
mus to the Pacific steamship at Panama 
would afford a twenty-four hours respite 
from the aching monotony of a cramped 
existence. 

One cannot be long among the lowly 
on a crowded ship without meeting with 
conditions appealing to his sympathy. 
One of the most pitiful sights I ever wit- 
nessed was on this morning — a group 
consisting of a mother traveling alone 
with her six little children, all seasick 
and the mother too ill to care for twin 
infants at her breast. All the women 
near her needing attention themselves, 
I was one of a committee of three to do 
what could be done to make this family 
comfortable. Altogether, we were not as 
efficient, I am afraid, as one "Mark Tap- 
ley," but we did the best we could, and 

86 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

I still see the look of gratitude with which 
the poor woman repaid us. 

I was leaning against the side rail 
reaching for a breath of fresh air, when 
a funny thing happened in proof that I 
was not the only nervy wayfarer getting 
the best of the steamship company. 
Standing beside me was a buxom woman 
in tilting hoops^ — ^^fashionable in those 
days. Her dress was spread out over 
four feet of the deck, forming a canopy 
like a circus tent in miniature. By her 
on the other side was a runt of a fellow, 
whose head barely reached her shoulder. 
He was stocky, and must have been 
broken off too high up for his feet were 
abnormally great. As the purser and 
ticket takers came along there was a' 
lightning consultation between the two, 
then the little man suddenly ducked and 
disappeared. The men were inspecting 
the woman's ticket when a lurch of the 
vessel threw one out of balance and his 
feet went under the tent and on to a 
pair of No. 12 cowhides. 

"Pardon me, madam," he said good 
naturedly, "I reckon you'll be able to go 
ashore without assistance. You'll have 
to take a reef in them feet, if you don't 
want 'em stepped on." 

So the little man made his ruse work, 
for that time; but lie was not solid, ha^^ 

87 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

ing yet to pass the isthmus railroad con- 
ductor and the Pacific steamship purser. 
Those huge skirts were the most 
abominable fashion of the nineteenth 
century, yet this incident illustrates that 
for utility, compared with the present- 
day hotoble, they had a redeeming quality 
for wearers who wanted to secrete things. 
Shoplifters and such, by attaching hooks 
to their hoops, could hide and walk off 
with enough plunder to stock a small var- 
iety store. 

From a lively crowd on the North 
Star I singled out three pretty good sing- 
ers for running mates, and we organized 
a quartet that was soon popular. They 
were M. B. Whittier, a gaunt six-footer 
from Rhode Island (a cousin of the poet 
W'hittier) whose ship name was "Yank;" 
"Delaware," a sailor with beady black 
eyes and a wicked-looking knife in his 
vest, wiho only held a place in my esteem 
by having a fine voice; "Tex," (from 
Texas), and "Bowery" — myself, so-called 
to distinguish me from "Niew York," also 
hailing from the big city. 

We were up in a number of popular 
selections. On fine moonlight nights, 
with the deck crowded with promenaders 
and groups of sitters, including the mili- 
tary officers and their wives, except for 

88 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

the laboring of the machinery stillness 
prevailed when we rendered this favorite 
sea song of the time — 

THE BUCCANEER'S BRIDE. 

Away, away, 

O'er the boundless deep, 
We'll merrily, merrily roam; 

Come, Anna, break 

The mermaid's sleep. 
With the song of your seagirt home. 

I'll make thee queen 

Of a brighter scene. 
Where no chilling winds are known; 

W'here the dark-eyed maid, 

'Neath the palm tree shade, 
Sings sweet of her island home. 

On the deck they etand. 
My gallant band, 
To guide thee, love, over the sea, 
To the spicy isles. 
Where the bright sun smiles 
^ In golden beams for thee. 

Bring flowers with thee. 

And my heart back to me, 
Oh come when the seabird calls; 

But at anchor we'll ride 

For the buccaneer's bride. 
Till the dew on the twilight falls. 

The serenaders rarely ended an even- 
ing without an invitation to cake and 
wine at some of the officers' quarters, 

89 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

and even resolutions were drawn thank- 
ing us for our efforts to lessen the listless 
hours. 

No pleasure trip could now 'be so 
inviting to me as a run down to and 
across the isthmus once more — especially 
since the marvellous canal has added ad- 
ditional attractions. Yet it is a question 
if the primeval conditions which the 
hardy '49ers overcame before the railroad 
was built — making the journey across to 
the Pacific in rude boats on the Chagres 
river, and eke on mules and burros 
through tropical jungle and morass — 
would not far more attract the old ad- 
venturer to a review of those early scenes 
than any triumph of modern engineering. 
The early days and their almost impos- 
sible trails are gone, while engineering 
skill and money will succeed to a greater 
triumph when the Nicaragua canal is 
built — which it will be. 

A ride across the isthmus by railroad 
in the sixties is remembered by those 
who made it as an intensely interesting 
experience. It was fresh in the minds 
of travelers of those days that the isth- 
mus road was completed at an awful sac- 
rifice of human life and an immense out- 
lay of, treasure. A considerable part was 
fbuilt through dreadful swamps, on piles 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

and bridges chaining one sunken moun- 
tain with another, and at times laborers 
from New York and other parts fell vic- 
tims to the Panama fever at the rate of 
nearly a shipload a day. Those who 
went to work bade good bye to comrades 
left behind, not expecting to return. It 
was asserted and believed that every tie 
in the road represented a dead man's 
bones. White men, West India islanders 
and Chinese at length refused to be lured 
to almost certain death by the big pay 
offered and the enervated natives, who 
had never before seen a shovel or a wheel- 
barrow, were finally employed to com- 
plete the undertaking. 

The scenery through which the road 
passes, strange to northern eyes and 
bright with tropical foliage, was deeply 
interesting, yet I could not lift my 
thoughts from the dreadful slough of 
death over which we were passing. 

Compared with this route the one 
used in those days via Nicaragua was 
longer, and in places fatiguing, but many 
preferred it on account of its lower tem- 
perature, healthier climate and grander 
scenery. From the Atlantic side, except 
in very dry seasons, we could travel from 
the Carribean sea up the Rio del Norte 
by* flat boat to Lake Nicaragua, there 
taking steamer for a 100-mile trip nearly 

91 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

to its northwestern end. The lake and 
its surroundings presents a marvel of 
grandeur and beauty. It is hemmed in 
by mountain peaks and ridges, and con- 
tains many islands, on one of which — 
Zapatra — is a monolith bearing mystic 
hieroglyphics — a silent witness to the 
presence there in the distant past of an 
enlightened race. In thd midst of a clus- 
ter of islets, many in number, the vol- 
cano of Mombacho lifts its smoking peak. 
The altitude of the lake, which is forty 
miles in width, is 110 feet above sea level, 
suggesting that some day this body of 
water may become a source of tremend- 
ous power for industrial uses. From the 
lake to the little land-locked harbor of 
San Juan del Sur, was a tedious mule-back 
journey. 

This reference to the once famous 
Nicaragua route, by which I later trav- 
eled, is made partly as a prelude to a 
little anecdote that will bear telling. 

Along in the fifties "Mjiser Eli," a New 
England farmer, left the diggings at Bid- 
well's Bar girt in a capacious belt, said to 
have contained $6,000 in golden double 
eagles. He must have been a powerful 
man if he walked off easily with such a 
load, but when it came to money it was 
said his lust for it would have enabled 
him to pack a ton. Miser Eli was pusil- 

92 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

animously mean, and when starting for 
home the Bar boys figured he ought to 
have had for his motto, "Git thar, Eli, 
without; dropping a short bit on the way." 

Instead of turning over his gold for 
exchange at a Frisco bank, he reckoned 
it would be safer and cheaper to take it 
with him. 

Arriving in due time at Niicaragua 
lake, instead of taking passage on the 
regular steamer for San Juan river, to 
save $5 he sailed on a schooner. There 
was a stiff breeze, and he was sitting on 
deck enjoying an old pipe, the scenery 
and thoughts of soon seeing the home in 
Vermont, "vvhen the schooner suddenly 
tacked, the boom swung around and in 
a twinkling Eli, his precious belt, hopes 
and pipe were swept overboard. 

The captain noted that for a moment 
a few bubbles marked the spot where 
he disappeared, in water of unknown 
depth. No one could have found the 
exact spot again, or as suggested by the 
Bar boys, a buoy might have been an- 
chored there bearing this legend : 

"Days, montlis, years and ages shall circle 

away, 
And yet the vast waters above thee shall 

roll, 
Earth loses her pattern, forever and aye — 
Oh, Eli hoy, Eli hoy, peace to thy soul." 
(Slightly altered.) 
93 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Leaving New York in the edge of 
winter and landing eight days later in 
the edge of spring was like being trans- 
lated from mid-winter to mid-summer, 
only more so, as Aspinwall was but 7^2 
degrees from the equator and its coolest 
weather too warm for comfort. We 
stepped out of a foot of snow in New 
York, while attending our landing was 
the incessant droning of insects, in an 
atmosphere "heavy with sighs from sweet 
orange groves" and the odors of trop- 
ical foliage and flowers. 

Aspinwall on ''steamer days" was a 
red hot town in more ways than one. 
At other times I imagine it lolled in the 
shade, too lazy to eat — the only subject 
for thought hcing the probable "catch" 
from the next arrival. Incoming steam- 
ers always found it in holiday attire by 
day, and brilliantly lighted by night. All 
its nets were set and lines baited for 
suckers. 

We went ashore at 8 in the evening. 
Yank and I, electing to take in the sights, 
deployed as a guide an old native, dark 
as Erebus. There was really not much 
to interest us, though at the end of our 
tramp we were witnesses in a case ol 
tropical punishment for drunkenness, 
that for effectiveness was a revelation 
and more simple and less fussy than our 

94 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

justice court methods. Our guide, after 
pocketing his peso, threatened to quit if 
we did not treat him to aquadente every 
time we passed a bar. Tlhat being very 
often, he soon becam,e too heavily laden 
to pursue a bee line. Suddenly a couple 
of native policemen seized and laid him 
not very gently on the walk, face down. 
Then stripping his ebony form from 
waist to knees, they fanned him vigor- 
ously with ratans, which at every stroke 
left a white streak and elicited a grating 
of teeth. When told to go, he "stood not 
upon the order of his going" but went as 
the crow flies. The police said it was 
their way of treating such cases, and 
the culprit seldom came back for more. 

My breakfast was a meal long to be 
remembered, mjostly for what I did not 
eat. Oin turning a coffee cup that had 
probably been inverted since the last 
steamer day I found that a colony of 
minute red ants had pre-empted it for a 
hive. The disgusting sight of them tem- 
porarily weaned me from my favorite 
beverage. Then I inspected a fricasseed 
chicken wing. The cook had neglected 
to remove feathers on the under side, and 
they were the exact color of an immense 
buzzard that just then alighted on the 
sill of an open window, within four feet 
of my plate. He brought his breath with 

95 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

him. When I essayed to shoo him away 
by raising my arms vigorously, he came 
right back at me by spreading his wings 
and opening his mouth, disgorging a lib- 
eral sample of what he could do in the 
way of raising a real disturbance. It was 
the limit. 

At Panama we hustled aboard the 
steamer Sonora, and had no time for 
sight-seeing. The purser in issuing me 
a dining ticket by mistake used a blank 
iirst-class. Being ripe for adventure I 
said nothing and took a seat at a first- 
class table, while my cronies were peek- 
ing through the cabin windows, expect- 
ing to see me thrown out. Soon the 
head waiter tapped me on the shoulder 
and asked, politely: 

"Sir, haven't you made a mistake? 
This seat is No. 83, and here is a gentle- 
man holding that numt)er." 

''Then the purser must have mixed 
things up, for here is my ticket — No. 83." 

He took it away, but soon returned 
and said: 

"This seat is in the military officers' 
m.ess. Please vacate it and I'll give you 
a really better one." 

It was me for the purser's table — 
seated alongside of him and first to be 
waited on, and a bottle of wine as a for- 
feit for the clumsy error he had made. I 

96 



IN THE EAJRLY SIXTIES 

showed up there until the journey's end. 
The laugih was not on me. 

The Sonora had no doubt heen a good 
ship in the long ago. Having doubled 
the horn when steamships in Pacific wat- 
ers were rare and since been in constant 
service, it had well earned a final rest 
down among the homes of the mermaids. 
Its timbers complained at the rising of 
a ground swell, and groaned frightfully 
in rough weather. Off the Gulf of 
Tehauntepec we encountered a gale. 
Great waves swept the deck, and the 
hatches were battened down. Many 
timid passengers retired to their berths, 
while at one time it seemed like half of 
those left in the cabin were on their 
knees — whether or not offering supplica- 
tions they only knew, for the roar was 
something awful. 

I did hear one earnest prayer, how- 
ever, put up by an old Quaker from Phil- 
adelphia, who was hanging on to the 
rounds of my chair. It was in behalf of 
his beloved son, in San Francisco await- 
ing the arrival of his father, whom he had 
induced to visit the coast. The suppli- 
cation was in effect that the young man 
might continue in the straight and nar- 
row path he had chosen, and meet his 
parent in glory. Within a fortnight after 
the old man's arrival in Frisco his 

97 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Straight and narrow son relieved him of 
$1,200 — every cent he had — ^and left for 
parts unknown. 

Some time during the night before 
the morning we were due at our pier the 
Sonora ran into a fishing schooner, stav- 
ing such a hole in her bow that in spite 
of all labor at the pumps water gained in 
the hold. A vessel with much water in 
her takes on a motion that gives one an 
uncanny sensation and makes the har- 
diest old salt afraid of his sea legs. I 
did not know of the accident until about 
daylight, when I ''turned out." As I 
stepped on deck the old hulk gave a 
lurch that nearly landed me on my head, 
and made me reflect whether I had been 
"seas over" the night before. 

We made fast all right, but say, you 
ought to have seen those terrified pas- 
sengers make for the gang plank. It was 
a close call, for the Sonora came near 
sinking after being relieved of most of 
her freight. She never made another 
trip. 

Although by 1861 the placer diggings 
'had nearly played out there was little 
let up from the rush to the coast, and 
for years San Francisco was overrun by 
fortune seekers who struck it anything 
but rich. It was a jumping-ofif place, 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

two thousand miles from anywhere — for 
printers. Los Angeles was a small trad- 
ing post with a Spanish mission. The 
only outside dailies were at Sacramento 
and Portland — dinky four-page sheets. 
Virginia City had only a small weekly 
that had been moved from Carson City, 
In January, 1861, when my card went 
into Eureka (Frisco) No. 21, the union 
had 129 members — about sixty regularly 
employed. All other callings were full 
up, there was very little of anything to 
do, and the typo was in luck who got a 
chance to wash dishes or shoot biscuits 
in a restaurant for his grub. 

At the time the Alta California, Call, 
Herald and Evening Bulletin (all four 
pages) were the only dailies, six days a 
week. The Chronicle and Examiner were 
not thought of until several years later. 
The best layout for me seemed on the 
Herald, with seven regs and three subs, 
and six hours' composition. I showed up 
there the best part of a year, getting in 
one to three nights a week. The Herald 
was on its last legs — quit a couple of 
years later. It was one of the oldest 
papers on the coast, popular until 1853, 
when the famous vigilance committee 
was organized. As the vigilantes were 
mostly desperadoes, w!ho espoused the 
movement to save their own necks, the 

99 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Herald made free to utter bitter criti- 
cisms, for which it was boycotted and 
in a day it slumped from, a prosperous 
sheet to a mere hanger-on — never to get 
back. 

For two years conditions in the trade 
Avere not improved. The Alta really of- 
fered the best layout for subs. There 
were but twelve sits, and I often took a 
chance when eighteen to twenty philos- 
ophers were waiting around the stone for 
lightning to strike. 

My recollection is that there w;as no 
protection Whatever for ''the wistful." 
Numbers of good-hearted regulars in all 
the offices (except the Bulletin) laid off 
at least two days every week ; also, some 
of the meanest grabbers I ever met only 
stopped to breathe about once a month. 
On the Alta was a sallow, hollow-eyed 
piker who stayed with it two years, when 
I quit keeping tab and him still humping. 
He gave a regular premium of $20 for 
the ads — his weekly net average being 
about $60 — and of course the premium 
was an incentive for whoever got it to 
hang up a "ringer." 

There were stayers also on the Call. 
One Wi'as a real estate dealer, who put in 
his hours for rest at type-setting, and had 
use for a su'b only two or three times a 

100 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

year. He wore an 18-inch collar, and 
bore a striking resemiblance to his four- 
footed relatives, lacking nothing in jowls 
and wearing a rooter that he had to tilt 
sideways to see the spacebox. There 
were jolly good fellows on the Call, too, 
who knew no favorites and "fell" to those 
who most needed work. Tom Reed, the 
foreman — one of the best and best-known 
printers on the coast — after many moons 
concluded I had been hanging on long 
enough and gave me extra cases; but 
there was only one pair, for 5-point — the 
body type being mostly 6-point — and I 
was lim^ited to six hours' composition. 
The lower case was so badly warped from 
having been through a fire that it soon 
became a miscegenated fright, and I threw 
up in disgust. The sub I put on was 
Russell Warren, afterwards of some note 
as foreman of the Chronicle. 

Within a month after I hoisted the 
banner an invoice of new cases came 
around the horn for the Call, and my ex- 
tra was made a full regular. (In the 
meantime, however, I had gone to "the 
land of Washoe," and was holding down 
a sit at $1 per in the booming new silver 
mining camp of Virginia City.) 

The Evening Bulletin was the most 
forbidding layout, I reckon, that an anx- 
ious printer ever struck. From ten to 

101 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

twielve regulars were employed, while two 
subs eked out a miserable existence. I 
was in the composition room only a 
couple of times. Otutside I could hear 
the hum of voices, t)ut the moment I en- 
tered an ominous silence ensued, like 
Father Time with his hay tool had come 
to cut some one out. Not an eyelid 
raised, and all seemed to be holding their 
breath. I stood resting on one leg, not 
for long. 

I relate the above facts not as a reflec- 
tion on dear old San Francisco, but that 
printers of today may the better appreci- 
ate the advantages they enjoy under the 
wise and humane provisions that have 
since been installed by the union. 

There was one little daily — the Mir- 
ror — that slipped my mind. After a 
couple of years of gasping, in the winter 
of 1861 it rolled over and died. It had 
large advertising contracts with the city 
that kept it alive during the fall, until a 
crisis came, which was met by half a 
dozen printers who with the union's con- 
sent agreed to get the sheet out for sev- 
eral weeks and take for pay $1,800 worth 
of city scrip, payable when special taxes 
for certain street work were collected. 
The scheme looked good to me as com- 
pared with nothing doing, and I was one 
of the gang that took the hook. 

102 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

The contract was completed and we 
got our scrip all right. Then we placed 
it in the hands of the foreman, Tom 
Bail, who was to lobby a bill through the 
legislature authorizing the city to cash 
the scrip in a lump sum, as the taxes were 
being paid in dribs. After several weeks 
of waiting something happened. Bail 
went to the treasurer's office one day. 
Finding that half of the taxes had been 
paid, he drew the money and took 
steamer for Portland, and with him the 
balance of the scrip. 

We never saw Tom Bail again, but 
had the satisfaction of learning that after 
being skinned of most of our wealth in 
a poker game he went to Boise City and 
there in a fit of despondency hanged him- 
self. During my fifty-four years in the 
business I was never quite so high up on 
the rocks as at this time. 

That printers may contrast present 
conditions in the trade with what I and 
many others passed through is my ex- 
cuse for lugging in this lugubrious stuff, 
which may lack in present-day interest. 
It was the grit of the boys of those times, 
in Frisco as elsewhere, that gave the 
typographical union its present place — 
gr'andly towering above all other labor 
organizations — and it seems to me, from 

103 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

a personal standpoint if you will, that 
many of the old timers are not now dealt 
with or looked upon as kindly as they 
might and deserve to be. 

Here is a summing up of the Frisco 
ordeal, as I saw it: For a number oi 
years a majority of the members of No. 
21, without consideration, provision or 
protection, many "moving on" for places 
to sleep, often not knowing w:here the 
next **eats" were coming from, with 
rarely a murmur sustained the minority 
in sits that paid them 75 cents at piece 
work, and $30 weekly — enabling piece 
men to draw down as high as $50 weekly. 
With one "string" a frugal sub not overly 
particular could buy a week's feed and 
room; but even the least 'spleeny finally 
wxaried of being handed that sort of 
thing. 

Is it any wonder that years later, 
when the union had more than doubled 
its membership and it was proposed to 
reduce the price of composition to 65 
cents, upwards of two hundred members 
failed to come oflF when a strike was or- 
dered. I was not there, but assume that 
among the "stayers" were many of my 
old compatriots who roamed the streets 
or did menial work. They had had a 
dose for an adult, and to walk out was to 

104 



IN THE EAULY SIXTIES 

come 'back for more — to again stand on 
basement gratings to rest their italic 
heels. 

I remember a pat talk made at one of 
the regular meetings that was prophetic 
and seemed to have a good effect in eas- 
ing up the greed of some of the thought- 
less — anyway a spell of more work for 
the unemployed followed. It went some- 
thing like this : "I'm no longer a printer. 
I wash dishes in a restaurant for $30 a 
month, while you fellows rake off $30 to 
$40 a week ; but presume am entitled to 
a seat here so long as I pay my dues. I 
ihave a soft snap compared with some of 
the boys, and can be counted on ; but let 
me warn you that present conditions in 
the trade won't be stood for always. An 
earthquake may yet have the effect to 
jar loose those who now can't afford time 
even to attend the baby's funeral." 

It is a source of great satisfaction to 
me to recall at this late day that I voted 
twice for Abraham Lincoln — ^first at Ro- 
chester, N. Y. (my maiden vote), and in 
1864 at the Eleventh ward poll in San 
Francisco. The election of 1864 on the 
coast was practically lined up for union 
and disunion ; and the feeling was intense. 

105 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

There were many secessionists (South- 
erners) in the city, and they all hated 
"Old Abe." 

An English printer who was a nat- 
uralized citizen arrived from Victoria, B. 
C, where he had been for several months, 
a day too late to entitle him to vote. 
Being a rank secession sympathizer, as 
many Englishmen were, he was much 
chagrined ; but having been warned by a 
good union man of trouble if he attempted 
to use the franchise, he concluded not to 
try it. Now it also happened that I had 
just come from the territory of Nevada, 
but had timed my return all right. Some 
one told him we had arrived the same 
day — he by steamship and I by a Sacra- 
mento river boat. We were chatting in 
the union rooms on election day after- 
noon, when I arose, remarking: 

"1 reckon I'd better go up to the Elev- 
enth ward and vote." 

"You vote! I'll be there, then, and 
see that you do some tall swearing, that'll 
get you into trouble." 

"Don't think it," I replied. "The 
sentiment is all one way in Frisco. You'd 
'get thrown out of court for trying to 
make a case against any one voting for 
President Lincoln." 

That made him hot, and when one of 
the boys asked him why he didn't go back 

106 



IN THE EABLY SIXTIES 

to British soil if this government was so 
obnoxious, he wanted to fight. 

At the polling place I had to stand in 
line half an hour. When my turn came 
a voice in the crowd sang out, "I chal- 
lenge that vote !" I had to do the swear- 
ing, all right; but the Englishman con- 
cluded to keep quiet, or if he tried to 
follow the matter up nothing came of it. 
± ± 

On the coast a large per cent of the 
population had drifted in from the South 
during the gold excitement ; but Uncle 
Sam was in the saddle, and Frisco was 
true blue. The city contributed liber- 
ally to the funds of the sanitary com- 
mission, and would have sent many sol- 
diers but for transportation cost, which 
the government declined to pay — ^partly 
because there was a possibility that de- 
fense might 'be needed at home. It is no 
doubt still remembered that 'but one com- 
pany — called the "California Hundred" — 
went from the coast to the front during 
the four years of war. The members paid 
their own passage. It was under the gal- 
lant soldier and brilliant orator, Colonel 
Ed. Baker, who was killed at Ball's Bluff 
the first day they were in action; and of 
th6 entire company, but nine lived to re- 
turn to their homes. 

107 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Several companies enlisted. They 
were sent to Arizona and the plains to 
watch Indians, wlho during the war were 
restless and inclined to be troublesome. 
This dampened the ardor of would-be 
volunteers. There was no glory in camp- 
ing on the desert, suffering from heat, 
lack of water and grub, perhaps to be 
picked off by sneaking Apaches. 

When more men were wanted to keep 
the Indians quiet two companies were en- 
listed with difficulty — only under prom- 
ise that they would be sent via Panama to 
the front. I joined one of them, and for 
a fortnig'ht showed up every night at the 
armory for drill, becoming so proficient 
that probably I could to this day handle 
a musket ^yithout hurting myself. A 
printer named Valentine Diresser, who 
had been a "paper-cap" and was up in the 
arms manual, acted as drill master and 
was chosen lieutenant; while another 
printer was made commissary sergeant. 

One night after drill several of us 
went to the Blue Wing — noted in Frisco 
history — for a night cap. W'hile talking 
with me Dresser, whom I did not like, 
made a remark that got under my skin 
and I resented it by giving him a shove. 
There was a row of barrels lined up in 
front of the bar. He fell over one, and 
laid there until picked up. 

108 



IN THE EAULY SIXTIES 

That was the nearest I ever came to 
'being in battle as a soldier. Dresser was 
a conceited, vindictive fellow, and as lieu- 
tenant-elect was already beginning to feel 
his oats. Did I give him a chance as an 
officer to get on to my neck and make my 
life a burden? Not me. When next day 
the company was swprn in I had an en- 
gagement elsewhere. It was just as well, 
for the boys were soon hustled down into 
the Apache country, near Tucson, where 
for several years their main pastime and 
occupation was matching graybacks and 
cussing the over'bearing lieutenant. 

A few doors above the typographical 
rooms on Clay street the De Young broth- 
ers — ^Mike and Charley, then aged about 
19 and 17 — ^had a few cases of old type 
and a hand press and were printing the 
''Theatre Chronicle," which afterwards 
became the present daily Chronicle. 
Even in their teens they had a touch of 
the yellow newspaper instinct, as the fol- 
lowfing incident will s'how: 

It was in 1864, at a time when every 
pony express was expected to bring great 
news from the front, and each afternoon 
thousands of anxious people gathered on 
Mbntgomery street — ^then the principal 
thoroughfare — awaiting the appearance of 

109 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the Evening Bulletin, which was issued 
about 5 o'clock. One day about 4:45 an 
extra suddenly appeared at a dozen places 
along the street. It contained what pur- 
ported to be a pony press report, under 
a half-column scare head of which I re- 
member the first two lines: 

"Richmond Taken! Ben Butler Shot 
While Riding Through the Streets !" 

You ought to have seen the rush for 
those extras, at two bits each ! Crowds 
fairly smothered the news'boys. The ex- 
citement lasted ten minutes, and then 
couriers rode furiously through the 
street proclaiming the extra a fraud. 

Did the DicYoung boys act as "news- 
ies?" Dbn't think it. They were in an 
ally, counting their gains. The excite- 
ment had quieted down long before the 
"enterprise" was traced to them. 

When the daily Chronicle was started 
by the DeYoungs they had "the instinct" 
to turn a trick that soon put it well on its 
feet and left the other city papers to hold 
the bag. All fresh eastern news was re- 
ceived by pony express. They arranged 
with the riders to have their mail deliv- 
ered at any point on the road, then hired 
a relay of fast nags to meet each pony 
miles out of the city. The Chronicle's es- 
teemed contemporaries at length awoke 
to the fact that all important news was 

110 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

printed and on the street an hour before 
the old dailies received their mail. 
± ± 

On the 4th of July, 1861, I was repre- 
senting cases on the Herald. It being a 
holiday no paper was to be issued; but 
wearying of celebrating, along in the af- 
ternoon I showed up to throw in and was 
sitting at case with a juicy handful when 
the rack began to shake violently. Be- 
ing very old it was about ready to col- 
lapse, anyway. Presuming one of the 
boys had sneaked in and was trying to be 
funny, I said : 

"That'll do, now." 

Jdhn Cremony, the editor, was at work 
in his sanctum, which was penned off from 
the main office. Hearing my voice he 
called out: 

"What's that you, say?" 

"Some one is shaking my rack," I re- 
plied. (It was still rocking furiously.) 

"That's God!" he exclaimed; "and 
young feller, we had better be climbing 
out of here." 

Then I noticed that the imposing 
stone was lunging back and forth, and 
when the looking glass and clock struck 
the floor and the office towel fell over on 
itg side, I got wise. An earthquake was 
on. 

Ill 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

My handful struck the. stone 'bottom 
up and I followed Cremony down the 
stairs "two at a jump." He slipped, 
landed on his stomach and served as a 
cushion for me. A thousand people had 
reached little M!erchant street before us, 
all pale as death and trying to keep their 
feet. The bravest of men lose nerve 
when the ground under them gets flossy 
that way. Their only thought is that it 
may open and swallow them. 

Speaking of swallowing, reminds me 
that under the Herald office was a low- 
down dive, the proprietor of which was 
out on the sidewalk ringing his hands and 
crying. There was a row in that place 
regularly every night, accompanied by a 
crashing of mirrors, said to have been 
precipitated whenever a weak-stomached 
customer was handed a certain brand of 
whiskey. With the first swallow he went 
luny and threw his glass at the barkeeper. 
Also, it was said that decanters used for 
this brand were so eaten they had to be 
replaced with new ones every week. It 
seemed meet that this man should be the 
only one in the street to show a yellow 
streak to the extent of shedding tears, 
with indications of flopping down to pray. 

No great damage was done to prop- 
erty by that quake, though the Bank Ex- 
change and government building as a 

112 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

result of it showed large cracks in their 
walls. 

± ± 

Among the square boys of the early 
days was a printer named Wolff, who put 
in some years at Sacramento before 
showing up at the bay. Quiet, unassum- 
ing and generous, he was anything but a 
wolf by nature, except when on periodical 
sprees. Then it was booze for a raven- 
ous maw until it landed him in the gutter. 

One morning after a prolonged "spell" 
and a twenty-four hour's fast he awoke 
duly sober and powerful hungry — of 
course, broke. In desperation he went to 
a restaurant where he was a stranger, ate 
•heartily, and made this spiel at the 
counter : 

"Boss, Tve just had a square meal, 
but am broke. Here is my ticket, and 
soon as I get busy I'll come and redeem 
it." 

The cashier glared at him. 

"There's the door," he said. "Get 
out. If you show up here again, I'll 
throw you out." 

Wolff was humiliated; but after fast- 
ing until next morning he gave in to an 
unutterable longing. Thinking he might 
as well die on a full stomach he went 
back to the place, ate a big breakfast, and 
said to the cashier: 

113 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"Here I am again, you see, contrary 
to orders. Guess you'll have to throw 
me out. I was very hungry, and just had 
to do it." 

The cashier nearly fell off of his stool. 
After taking a good look at his customer, 
who with a twinkle in his eye was gazing 
steadfastly at him, 'he said : 

"Well, Fnx d d if I ain't stuck on 

your nerve. Have a cigar. Come any 
time, eat all you want of the best there 
is, and I won't charge you a cent." 

After that Wolfif was one of the res- 
taurant's best customer-6. 

On the Christmas day following there 
were several sports in the union rooms 
who had celebrated the night before, and 
were minus the price of a sandwich, let 
alone a holiday spread. All were hungry 
and all talking "eats." 

Dan Donahue, a good natured soul, 
suddenly thought of a scheme, but was 
too much "befuddled" to work out the 
details. 

"I'll tell you what let's do, boys," he 
said. "Let's go down to the Cafe du 
Rlhone and try that gag of Wolff's. 
(Everybody had 'heard about it.) His 
nibs can't any more'n kill us, an' I'll 
go dead if I don't chew pretty soon." 

So to the cafe they went. All had 
turkey, wine and cigars. Then Dan, as 

114 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

spokesman, took the lead to the counter. 
Standing with thumbs in vest, he grinned 
in a sickly way as he remarked: 

"I reckon you'll have to throw us out, 
for ('hie) there isn't a short bit in the 
crowd." 

The proprietor, a big, husky French- 
man, rushed from behind the counter in 
a frenzy, exclaiming: 

"By gar, I am ze what you call rooster 
zat can do eet!" and after striking right 
and left took two beats nearest him by 
the shoulders and s'hoved the bunch well 
into the street. 

Poor Dan came off with a black eye, 
then had the nerve to go back and ask 
for a beafsteak to put on it. What was 
more, he not only got it, but afterwards 
paid the whole bill and stood in with the 
proprietor ever after. 

Probably few of my readers ever heard 
of Harry Courtaine, fifty years ago one 
of the most popular actors on the coast, 
or anywhere else. Harry was educated 
in Dublin for a priest, but had a pre- 
diliction for the stage, and shedding his 
robes took to it like a duck to water. His 
versatility was amazing. I must relate 
ar^ instance of it that came under my ob- 
servation. 

115 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

When sober Harry was the dandy of 
Montgomery street. Quite tall, hand- 
somely built and graceful, he always 
topped out his heavy ibroadcloth swallow- 
tail and other glad togs with a new silk 
tile, waxed his big flaxen mustache to 
point due east and west, and there was 
never a speck on his shining patent leath- 
ers. When he passed by everybody 
turned to admire. 

On the other hand, he was as strictly 
methodical in regard to his drunks. They 
w,ere due about every six weeks, rain or 
shine, and lasted two; for he was such a 
lusher that if continued longer, snakes 
would climb the bedpo'Sts. When it was 
his time to "fall" he would deliberately 
saunter into a saloon and take a big jolt, 
all by *his lonesome. Then he went 
straight to his room, dusted and laid 
away his fine rig and got into his poor- 
est — throwing engagements without no- 
tice, no matter how important. In engag- 
ing him the managers had to take 
chances. 

Harry would accept a treat, but never 
stand for one, so he always had money. 
On a spree he never spoke to anybody un- 
less spoken to. When he had pressed the 
two weeks' limit he was usually picked 
out of the gutter, taken to his room and 
attended by a physician. 

116 



IN THE EABL.Y SIXTIES 

One night about midnight, after work- 
ing on the Alta, I was wending my way 
home when on turning into Kearney 
street a man naked as Adam minus the 
iig leaves came rushing toward me, 
shrieking, *'For God's sake, don't let them 
get me !" It was poor Harry, who had 
eluded a nurse and — the snakes. 

Mark what followed. On the next 
Saturday night I attended a minstrel show 
at Gilbert's melodeon, and there, as a 
temporary end man, was Harry Court- 
aine. He was in one of his funniest 
mioods, and was wiildly cheered — I reckon 
partly because most of the audience had 
heard of his late free street show. 

Monday night I went to the Metro- 
politan theatre, where McKean Buchanan, 
a celebrated actor, was to appear as 
''Mjadbeth." Would you believe it — just 
before curtain call the manager appeared 
and announced that as Mr. Buchanan had 
been taken suddenly ill, the great and 
popular tragedian, Harry Courtaine, had 
kindly volunteered to assume his part ! 
He went through it without a hitch; and 
it was a fine and finis'hed piece of acting. 

Next morning the Metropolitan bills 
announced that the Bianchi troupe (a re- 
c,ent arrival from Australia, and stranded) 
would present the comic opera of "The 

117 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Barber of Seville," in which Harry Court- 
aine would appear as the festive barber. 
Everybody wanted to see him in opera, 
as it was a new stunt for him in San 
Francisco, and the house was packed. 
The part was faultlessly rendered, though 
having a rather weak voice Harry could 
act better than he could sing. 

His great role was the lead in ''The 
Rivals," a very popular comedy of the 
time. It was a part that no actor wanted, 
after him. On the Saturday night of that 
very week, at the Metropolitan, a "grand 
benefit" was tendered Harry — "The 
Rivals" headlining the bill. I was not 
present, but rem,ember the press spoke 
of the performance as Mr. Courtaine's 
greatest artistic and financial success 
since his arrival in the city. 

I have mentioned this instance of ver- 
satility believing there is no record of its 
having ever been equalled. Think of it 
— sure enough jimjams, minstrel, high 
tragedian, comic opera singer and com- 
edian, all within ten days, and all star 
stunts ! 

Only a few years ago I saw an item 
in a New York daily telling of a case in 
a local police court. In the "catch" was 
a tall, unkempt, ragged, gray-haired man, 
with dull eyes and swollen face. When 

118 



IN THE EABLY SIXTIES 

his name was called he answered with a 
feeble, trembling voice. The judge in a 
tone of compassion said he was grieved 
to see the prisoner in so humiliating a 
condition. "Since your only crime is 
against yourself," he said, **!' will not im- 
pose a penalty on you, who have so often 
contributed to my entertainment and 
pleasure; and I have no doubt that for 
the same reason there is kindly sympathy 
for you in the breasts of all within the 
sound of my voice. Your hair is whiten- 
ing, Harry, and the night is coming on. 
Try to control yourself in future. Do 
'better, and I will be glad to help you in 
every way I can. You may go." 

It was dear old Harry Courtaine — the 
last I ever 'heard of him. 

"Backward, turn backward, O time in your 

flight, 
Make me (Slug 5) again, just for tonight." 

During the presidential campaign in 
1864 I wias holding cases on the Ameri- 
can Flag — Henry George being also one 
of the compositors. 

The only excuse for the Flag ever hav- 
ing been unfurled was its advocacy of 
Lincoln and the union cause. It was 
pulled down directly after the election. 

119 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

After that I rarely saw Mr. George, 
and now remember little of him. In his 
young manhood, as I recall him, he was 
quiet and unassertive. Though differing 
from most of his fellow workmen by de- 
voting his leisure hours to reading and 
study, there was nothing in his person- 
ality to forecast the great labor advo- 
cate and philosopher he became. My im- 
pression was that he burned the mid- 
night oil a good deal, instead of having 
saloons and amusement places burn oil 
for him. But for a joke he perpetrated 
on me, I might have forgotten that we 
once pounded type together. 

When the Flag ceased to wave I went 
to sub on the Morning Call. One day I 
was working for George Bloor — "Slug 
5." I am particular to mention Bloor, for 
he was not only a grand good fellow, who 
would never stand by and see a goose 
egg handed me, or others, but the proud 
father of "Jimmy," the office cub, who 
afterwards was an editor of note in Salt 
Lake, Kansas City and eastern cities, and 
is now, I believe, writing in Los Angeles. 

On this particular morning I was the 
first to show up, had lifted a handful and 
was sitting at case all by my lonesome, 
singing "Rock Me to Sleep, Mother" — a 
great favorite of the time. When the 

120 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

verse ended Henry George was standing 
in the door. 

"Huh !" he exclaimed, "wouldn't you 
be a swieet 'babe for a fond mother to 
rock to sleep !" 

I can never forget how merrily he 
said it, or the suggestion following: 

"I heard you from the street, and 
came up two flights just to see who in 
the Call office can make a noise like that. 
Why, young fellow, you are wasting 
time. If I had your voice I wouldn't ruin 
my lungs setting type under hot gas 
lights, but overcome every obstacle in 
the way of making music my calling." 

Why did I, as countless others have 
done, thoughtlessly neglect this one tal- 
ent that nature gave me? You tell. Ap- 
pearing as a fill-up in an opera chorus, 
and now and then volunteering a song 
on a benefit night, satisfied my ambition 
in that direction. To be able to give the 
odds of thirty caroms or no count in the 
"gentleman's game," with a big crowd 
looking on, was to me of more import- 
ance, or at least more satisfying, in those 
days, than being a Karl Formes. 

Except in the first of these sketches 
all of the old trails retraced inevitably 
lead to or from the printshop and affairs 

121 



HAJSTDSET REMINISCENCES 

directly or indirectly connected with it, 
of which I wlas cognizant or in which I 
took a more or less active part. 

I could write a book about San Fran- 
cisco, its wonderful transformation, its 
interesting features and odd characters 
during the years I was there — of its hav- 
ing on my arrival a population number- 
ing but forty odd thousand; of its social 
status, around which still lingered the 
spell put upon it by the vigilantes of 
1853 — a large part of the people unset- 
tled, eating in restaurants and having 
their homes in rented rooms or tene- 
ments; of the city's growth, strikingly 
noticeable from Montgomery street (then 
the main thoroughfare) with its upper 
side west of California street a waste of 
sand hills, in two years built up along 
that section with solid brown stone and 
marble fronted blocks; of Miarket street, 
with not a structure worthy of notice, 
practically unused except as the terminal 
of a stub railroad, that daily ran a dinky 
engine and car combined to the old 
San Franciscan mission — a tumble down 
attraction for sightseers ; of a weath- 
er-beaten shack, used as a carpenter 
shop by day and by night as a 
rehearsing place for amateur theat- 
ricals, occupying the site of the present 
Palace hotel; of the great cliff resort by 

122 



IN THE EARLY SIXTIES 

the Golden Gate, then in its primitive 
state and reached only by vessel or a 
horseback ride through miles and miles of 
sand hills; of Charley Backus, Frank 
Miayo, Charles Thorne, Jr., Joe Murphy, 
Little Lotta and other stage celebrities, 
then just learning their entrances and 
exits; of Kearny street, a mere alley, be- 
ing widened and succeeding Montgom- 
ery as the main thoroughfare; of the 
city's front, built on piles from Front 
street half a mile out to the great piers 
and the present sea wall, with water sev- 
eral feet deep when the tide was in un- 
der buildings, planked walks and streets ; 
of the historic old postoffice, where we 
used to form lines blocks in length on 
steamer days, waiting for our mail; of 
the tenderloin district and Chinatown, 
then noticeable features but widely dif- 
fering from what they are today ; of buy- 
ing for a week's wage twk> city lots on 
one of the city's seven hills, on which 
fortunes have since been spent in grad- 
ing them down to the present level, and 
which with their improvements are now 
worth millions ; of the "twa dogs," Bum- 
mer and Lazarus, that I often fed, and 
could tell stories about yet untold ; of 
Emperor Norton I, czar of all the Rus- 
sias, who always gave me a dignified 
greeting:, and made me his special mes- 

123 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES' 

senger for more than one ukase that 
was published in the morning' papers; 
of that other mild, methodical lunatic, 
the "Free Ditcher," whom the "Emp" 
held in contempt because of his silk ban- 
ner and glad Continental togs, while his 
majesty wore gray, often frayed at the 
heels — these two as they passed by 
glaring at each other with an abiding 
hatred born of professional jealousy; of 
Oakland, then mostly acreage property, 
marked here and there by a tumble down 
building — less important then than num- 
bers of the villages now reached by the 
interurban line between Oakland and San 
Jose; of the Sacramento river steamers 
and their immense passenger and freight 
traffic of many years; of the slackened 
pour of gold dust from ancient river bed 
and gulch and bar. 

Near early San Francisco, with its en- 
vironments, is impressed upon my mem- 
ory m!ore vividly than any of the other 
cities in which I spent my type-setting 
days ; but with this mere reference to a 
few of its salient features I must pass on. 



124 



The First Silver Boom< 



The journey from Sacramento to Vir- 
ginia City when stage lines were estab- 
lished, occupying about two days, was 
not an altogether delightful experience, 
albeit en route were scenic effects and 
thrills calculated to satisfy any reason- 
able tourist. 

Early in the Washoe silver excite- 
ment, on in 1861, the trip was made by 
thousands of fortune hunters on bron- 
chos, mules and burros, and on foot. 
Those who tram|ped in the winter sea- 
son, packing blankets and grub, suffered 
great hardships. Many were the rude 
tablets along the old trail marking the 
last resting places of the weak who fell 
by the way. 

By the spring of 1863 a forty-mil^ 
section of the Central Pacific railroad had 
been constructed east from Sacramento, 
landing passengers at Auburn — then a 
booming terminal. This I believe was 
the first bit of railroad to be built west 
of the Missouri river; though several 
miles of track between Frisco and the old 
San Francisco mission was laid earlier, 
and operated with an engine and car com- 
bined that carried passengers. 

125 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Before reaching the foothills from Au- 
burn there was a stretch of valley road 
where frequent floods had deposited silt 
to a depth of four to six inches, so fine 
and light that with scarcely a breath of 
air stirring it rolled up in dense clouds, 
so that weak-lunged wayfarers only 
saved themselves from suffocation by 
masking their noses. On my first trip 
I was so fortunate as to secure the seat 
beside the driver, above the real smoth- 
ering zone ; but even so, when we arrived 
at the first change station there was a 
deposit half-an-inch deep on the rim of 
my hat. It was this silt that gave the 
Sacramento valley perhaps the richest 
soil in the world for agricultural pur- 
poses ; and more wealth has been reaped 
from its fertile acres than ever came in 
gold from the overhanging mountains. 

"Ike," our driver, was a joker in his 
way, albeit some of the "insides" were 
prone to think it a mean, underhanded 
way. When the monotony of a steady 
pull had lulled them into a doze, we came 
to a little gully where a shower brook 
had crossed the road. When approaching 
it, remarking it was "about time for them 
ducks down thar to wake up," and warn- 
ing me to hang: on, Ike unloosed his whip 
and hit a fly on the off leaders' ear. The 
team jumped, and as the wheels hit the 

126 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

depression half a dozen heads played tat- 
too on the roof, while a streak of oaths 
issued from the windows that seemed 
like a blue rainbow on the dusty air. 

Then that hard-hearted wretch went 
into a silent convulsion that shook the 
seat, and m.urmured: 

"G-e-e-zus ! but didn't that thar jar 
'em loose!" 

That was positively the most unique 
swearword ever uttered. Ike didn't seem 
to use it in a profane sense any more 
than Mr. Corntossle swears when he says 
"dum it." In fact, I don't remember to 
have heard Ike utter a real oath. He 
made use of this substitute on all occa- 
sions, as a creation of his own, with 
slightly varying emphasis expressing sur- 
prise, pain, irritation, appreciation or 
contempt. With a deep bass voice he 
gave a falling inflection to both syllables 
— the first landing somewhere under his 
vest, the last with a sudden thud in his 
throat. 

Long subsequent to this trip I was 
one day standing by the desk of the man- 
ager of a furniture establishment at 
Lapeer, Mich., where I published a small 
paper. A clerk was waiting on a cus- 
tomer at one of the counters. 

"G-e-e-zus!" exclaimed the customer. 
Whereat the manager laughed. 

127 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

'That was odd," I said. "It must be 
ten years since I last saw the man who 
uttered that word, if ever; but I'll wager 
a box of Havanas I know him." 

''Done," said the manager. "Mr. 
Temple, please step here a moment. I 
want to introduce you to this gentleman." 

As Mr. Temple approached I turned 
my face toward him. 

"G-e-e-zus !" he exclaimed, seizing 
my hand. 'T don't need no introduction 
to this galoot. What on earth are you 
doing in this God forsaken land of turnips 
and ruta bagas? You're about the last 
person I ever expected to meet this side 
of the Rockies." 

It transpired that Ike Temple, after 
many years of western life, was visiting 
a sister whom he had not seen since she 
was a child, and by way of celebrating 
their reunion was about to present her 
with a set of furniture. He had just 
made himself known to the manager, who 
with no idea that I ever lived in the far 
west thought he had some dead easy 
cigars coming. 

At one of the change stations, reached 
at daybreak, was a saloon — an inevitable 
feature in the mountains wherever were 
gathered together half-a-dozen shacks or 
tents. On a bench in front sat an Indian 

128 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

who might have been Shacknasty Jack, a 
chief of the Modoc tribe, later noted as 
a desperate fighter in what was known 
as the lava bed war. He was a strictly 
hideous-looking creature, togged mostly 
in scars, war paint and feathers and heav- 
ily armed, with a rifle resting across his 
knees, and was sitting bolt upright on 
the edge of the seat as if about to flas^^ 
and go off. His gaze was fixed on the 
eastern horizon, and as the stage came 
up he did not bat an eye. A tobacco sign 
might have swayed in the breeze that 
was blowing, but he did not. 

The respite from the long night ride 
and pure bracing air stimulated me, and 
striking an attitude in front of the noble 
red man I pointed to the east and sang a 
couple of lines from "Masaniello : 

"Behold, how torightly breaks the morning, 
The sun is shining o'er the eastern hills." 

Still not a muscle stirred; but when 
I said, "Pardner, come and have a drink," 
he grunted, sprang to his feet like some- 
thing had stung him, and stalked to the 
bar without giving me a glance. When 
the scars and paint darkened the door 
the barkeeper was busily waiting on some 
passengers ; but he dropped them, filled 
a glass to the brim with snake juice and 

.129 



HANDSET KEMINISCENCES 

set it before the chief, who downed it 
without a gasp. With another grunt 
Jack stalked back to his perch. When 
we came out he had again become a 
wooden image with a far-away gaze. 

Later on this chief made a heap of 
trouble for Uncle Sam before cold lead 
persuaded him to become a "good In- 
dian." The barkeeper seemed to feel 
that he had good and sufficient reason 
for being mighty polite to him. 

We spent an hour at an eating sta- 
tion; which gave me time to look around. 
Nothing worth mentioning was in sight, 
except at the rude hotel — kept by a '49er 
— was a six-pocket billiard table which, I 
being a scrub player, attracted my cur- 
iosity. It was actually 9 feet long by 7 
feet wide. It had a wooden bed, balls 
that had been "thrice turned," and small 
gunny sacks for pockets. Looking 
across its broad expanse, one could fig- 
ure that having made a round-the-table 
shot he would have time to sit down 
and read a paper while his cue ball was 
coming back. A sound as of distant 
thunder reverberated as the ivories rolled 
over the wooden bed. One board was 
warped by having stood under a leaky 
roof, so that the relic was now in disuse 

130 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

— crippled as well as outlawed by limit- 
ation. The proprietor, a bleary-eyed, 
palsied old man, explained that in by- 
gone days the table was used principally 
for playing "rondo," a Mexican game at 
that time popular in the diggings, in 
which many thousands of dollars changed 
hands. He had seen as high as a thou- 
sand dollars in gold dust bet on a single 
roll. The game was played with eight 
balls, the size of pigeon's eggs. They 
were shoved with the hands, diagonally 
across the table. If an even number, or 
all, fell into the corner pocket the player 
made a "rondo," and won. If the num- 
ber left on the table was odd, he made a 
"coolo," and lost. 

Rondo had disappeared before my 
time, but there was another simple odd 
and even game, called "props," that in 
the early sixties caught the boys for 
their loose change and made coupon cut- 
ters of percentage shafks. It was played 
with four elongated white sea shells, one 
side of each having been removed and 
replaced with sealing wax. The playen 
put up say four bits, which was taken by 
other players, and threw the shells on a 
green baise-covered table. If two or four 
came red side up he made a "nick," and 
won. If but one red or one white showed, 
it was an "out" and he lost. When he 

131 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

had thrown two nicks and doubled his 
money twice, he usually took down $1.25, 
left up a four-bit stake, and the dealer 
put two bits in his till. It took about 
two minutes to set the game and throw 
twice, so the dealer's rakeoif was $6 to 
$8 an hour; though when the playing 
was lively for larger stakes he would 
steal as much more. This game was 
played ''wide open" in all second-class 
saloons, and became such a craze among 
wage earners in Frisco the authorities in- 
terfered and suppressed it. 

This was the Henness Pass route. 
There was another, perhaps more pop- 
ular, called the Placerville route, but the 
Henness Pass was not excelled for scen- 
ery and thrilling features. A real blood- 
curdler was called the "eleven-mile 
grade," which in that distance dropped 
several thousand feet from the summit 
of the Sierras west into the valley in 
which beautiful Webber lake is situated. 
The summit was reached from the east 
by a toilsome, rocky climb, made by miost 
passengers on foot to lighten the coach. 
The long grade was a narrow shelf, hewn 
all the way in solid rock. It was smooth 
as a floor, but not wide enough for teams 
to pass safely. At frequent intervals 
Were excavations in the side of the moun- 

132 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

tain, into which freighters could drive 
and clear the track for coaches, which 
had the right of way. It was the rule 
for coach drivers to make up on the 
down grade for time lost in approaching 
it and the horses were given their heads 
at full gallop — ^their clattering and the 
rumbling coaches making a racket that 
could be heard half-a-mile, warning ap- 
proaching and slower jehus to "turn in." 

At the beginning of this descent the 
scenery was grand, from a safe view- 
point, but lost to the awe-stricken gaze 
of most pilgrims, they having something 
to think about more nearly concerning 
their immediate personal prospects. The 
outer margin of the roadway was not so 
wide but that they could see a precipice 
directly below them with an almost per- 
pendicular wall, so deep that pine trees 
at the bottom seemed not m,hjch larger 
than sagebrush. 

At the summit I became an insider 
temporarily, giving up my perch to a 
weak-hearted pilgrim short of breath. 
Beside me inside was a former driver on 
the route, wiho had !been fired for some 
•cause. He was very bitter, and to in- 
^jure the com^pany was losing no chance 
to say nerve-racking things. So narrow 
a margin of road, the awful precipice anci 
the apparently reckless speed we were 

133 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

making caused a creepy sensation to 
cavoort up and down my spine, no doubt 
shared by all. I asked the fellow if he 
had ever had an accident on the grade. 

"Dozens on 'em," he replied. ''See 
how that thar right leg of mine is braced, 
and a holdin' on? That comes of habit, 
just. I alius braced myself thataway 
soon as I hit the down haul, ready to 
jump in case a wheel run off or the lead- 
ers began to get flossy. Them bosses 
get skeered, all same as a tenderfoot, and 
sometimles go bughouse and jump over 
the side. Then I'd jest nach'lly jump 
t'other way, hear me. Soon as I'd looked 
over and seen that the layout was on its 
way, it was for me to hoof it down to 
the next station, get picked up and taken 
to headquarters an' put aboard a new 
outfit." 

"Were no steps taken to rescue the 
passengers?" 

"You mean to go where they lit? 
Whar's the use? You don't reckon thar 
was anybody a hollerin' fer help after 
fallin' a mile, do ye?" 

"No; but the company at least ought 
to have taken steps to recover the bodies, 
and see that they were decently, in- 
terred." 

"Oh, I don' know. There's only a 
bad trail at the bottom of the canyon, 

134 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

with boulders a rollin' down like they're 
shot out of a gun and liable to smash 
you. Anyway, it would take a couple 
of days for a rescue party to git thar, an' 
what 'ud the coyotes an' buzzards an' 
crows be doin' all that time. I hear 
roughnecks who don't mind pickin' dead 
men's pockets have made a big thing 
down thar, but I wouldn't want none of 
it in mine." 

Next to this veracious jehu on the 
danger side, with bulging eyes glued to 
the window, was a thin-faced, middle- 
aged man in a frayed black suit, crumpled 
silk hat and a dirty white cravat, who 
for all I know might have been a tract 
dispenser. I couldn't see his face, but 
imagine all the horror not depicted in 
the faces of the other passengers was 
concentrated in his. He was neither 
seated nor standing — about half cocked 
as you might say — so that his lean figure 
swayed to and fro and rose and fell with 
the motion of the coach. Clutched in his 
hands were an old satchel and an um- 
brella, as if he might be loaded to go 
off suddenly. 

When the ex-jehu ceased talking he 
took a bite from a pocket flask that must 
have had a depressing effect, for with 
tears in his voice he soOn began singing 
a doleful croon that had probably been 

135 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"thought out" by a disgruntled stage 
driver. I recall the first of about twenty- 
one verses : 

'Just listen, me boys, and I'll sidng ye a sogng — 
A tadle (tale) of the road that's not very 

logng — 
'Tis about a fine lad who drove very wedll, 
But hung to his ribbons and landed in hedll." 

It told of a loving old mother, who 
knitted Jack's socks and mended his 
clothes, and died heart-broken when she 
heard of his awful fate ; also, of a ''nice 
yougng girdl" soon to have been his 
bride, who went to the dizzy brink, and 
when she "see where Jack had godne," 
shrieked fearful and went tumbling after. 

Before this horror was ended the 
tract dispenser collapsed, dropped his be- 
longings, and with chin on breast main- 
tained a limp heap until we halted at 
the next station. I did not notice until 
then that his hair was streaked with 
white. 

If you were a poor devil of a type- 
sticker — a Johnny-come-lately in one of 
the strangest of strange places — and you 
had just got in a night at $1 per thou- 
sand, and on the way to your room, on 
the main street, at considerable intervals 
you should stumble over three horrid 

136 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

cadavers, and the cheerful information 
had been imparted to you that you might 
expect a similar experience on the fol- 
lowing night, and every other night, and 
that if a policeman were standing in a 
doorway close by he would merely shrug 
his shoulders when the several impedi- 
ments turned up their toes, and in the 
morning would order a cart and have 
the remains, boots and all, dumped into 
a trench in the outskirts, thus closing 
the incidents; and that the policemen of 
the place were all instructed to not, un- 
der certain conditions, interfere with any 
amount of shooting, cutting, clubbing, or 
any other process of cadaver-making that 
might happen on the main street or any 
other street, would you have the nerve 
to continue on to your domicile, partake 
of a refreshing, dreamless sleep, and next 
day return to the office to get in "another 
one," or would you watch for the dawn, 
go paste your string, turn it over to the 
"Shylock" and incontinently hit the trail 
for other scenes? 

This is not a hypothetical question — 
not a suppositious one at all events^ — for 
it brings up an incident just as it hap- 
pened to me in the spring of 1862, a fev/ 
days after my arrival in Virginia City, 
Nevada. There was a dearth of printers, 
and cases had been handed me by the 

137 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

benevolent and gentlemanly foreman of 
the Union; and it may be as well to say 
here that I held them down for two 
years, when I was fired for insubordina- 
tion. 

It was during the first silver boom. 
There were fifteen thousand people in 
the city — then but two years old as time 
is counted, but exceedingly old in in- 
iquity. Everybody had money to burn, 
and it might as well have been burned 
for all the good the bulk of it did — 
squandered as fast as made. There were 
few homies. Niew comers and old were 
in luck to find clean rooms and a place 
where square meals were served. More 
than half of the population was made up 
of disreputables, including hundreds of 
desperadoes who had graduated in played- 
out gold camps of California and lived 
to get away. These were doing most 
of the shooting, and to save being bank- 
rupted by court expenses the authorities 
allowed them to shoot without let or hin- 
drance, so long as they did not molest 
or injure reputable citizens. 

And say, maybe you think it wfasn^t 
a picnic for those unregenerate cut- 
throats. On one occasion the blood-let- 
ting was so frequent that the Union took 
on a moral spasm and scathingly de- 
nounced not only the bad mien, ^but the 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

authorities for permitting such goings on. 
That night a man of blood made a break 
to get back at the Union, and it hap- 
pened that I had a close call. I have 
never had to put a peg there to remem- 
Iber it. My stand stood next to a front 
window. About the hour when grave- 
yards yawn I was "pegging away," and 
just reaching for a capital C, when a bul- 
let crashed through the glass, and pass- 
ing close to my ear, sank into the capital 
B box. 

The contents went swarming, like 
sure-enough bees. So did the printers 
in my alley, without waiting to be called 
out by the father of the chapel. After 
that I never worked in that window at 
night without a curtain between me and 
the street; and that was the only time 
that violence was offered mc, albeit I 
was an eye-witness to many a shooting- 
scrape and hundreds of bad men got their 
eternal deservings while I was in the 
city. 

At this time Mark Twain (Sam 
Clemens) was a reporter on the Terri- 
torial Enterprise, and I presume incident- 
ally gathering his notes for ''Roughing 
It." He did not tell in his book of in- 
teresting happenings, humorous and 

139 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

otherwise, that would have filled the vol- 
umes of a small library. I have in mind 
one in particular that had Mark himself 
in the cast. 

One day, with my sleeves rolled to the 
elbows, I was ''throwing in" when a tall, 
gaunt, red-headed stranger came, with 
military tread, into the composing-room, 
and advancing several paces stood there 
as if transfixed. He had on a slouch hat, 
a travel-stained, old-fashioned linen dus- 
ter, that reached to his heels, and in his 
hand was a large "carpet-bag," such as 
our fathers used to carry. Silently he 
surveyed the dozen or more printers, un- 
til his eyes rested on me. Then the bag 
dropped to the floor as if released by an 
automatic spring. With a movement like 
Hamlet's ghost he advanced to my side, 
seized my arm, stripped it to the shoul- 
der, and tragically pointing to a vaccin- 
ation scar, exclaimed : 

"Behold, the mark ! It is, it is my 
long lost brother. Found at last! Now 
may all the gods at once be praised. 
Friends, countrymen and brethren, you 
votaries of rotgut, let us all repair to the 
nearest inn and absorb, say, four fingers, 
by way of celebrating this glad reunion." 

This wias Artemus Ward (Charles F. 
Browne), with whom I had worked on 
the Cleveland Plaindealer at the time he 

140 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

was its local editor and writing for its 
Saturday issues the sketches that made 
him famous. No one who had seen him 
once could ever forget him. 

There was no work for me during his 
four days' stay. He had been announced 
by the papers to lecture that night, but 
not a bill had been posted. 

"Blrother," he said to me, "I must 
say unto all the people, yea, upon the 
walls of the city, I am come; lest perad- 
venture, they know it not, and bring not 
their shekels unto my hopper. Nbw, 
therefore, prithee, go thou with me to 
spread the glad tidings, and verily when 
we have done this thing we will repair 
again to the wine cellar of the publican, 
— which, I know by the cut of his jib he's 
a d — ' — d sinner." 

These were his exact words, as nearly 
as I can remember. So overflowing with 
humor was Charley Browne that he sel- 
dom uttered a sober sentence, and one of 
his favorite modes of expression was in 
imitation of Holy Writ. 

I thought I was in for a regular bill- 
posting job, but submitted. We went to 
the Enterprise office, and procuring a 
sheet of 24 by 36 news print, with a blue 
pencil he wrote upon it this legend : 

141 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

ARTEMUS WARD 

WILL 

SPEAK HIS PIECE 

HERE 

TONIGHT. 

This he tacked on the door of Ma- 
guire's opera house, and though the 
theatre was packed each night of his 
stay it was the only posting that was 
done. 

I do not believe Mark Twain' ever en- 
tertained an idea that he was to really 
write a book until that lecture gave him 
a jolt. Anyway, from that time there 
was a vein of wit all through his news- 
paper work that was not there before, 
and many of his brightest hits seemed 
to have a familiar cast to those who heard 
the lecture ; though they were really or- 
iginal. He was following a new train 
of thought — evolving an idea — and I have 
since believed that, as a genius, he was 
dreaming until Artemus Ward awakened 
him to his capabilities ;' that no doubt the 
sayings of the greatest American wit pre- 
ceding him had always been green in 
his memory. 

A row of seats close to the stage at 
Mlaguire's, usually set apart for news- 
paper men, was called "the printers' 
pew." In one of those seats was Mark, 

142 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

with Open mouth. I know, because I sat 
beside him. The lecture, announced as 
''Babes in the Wood," without reference 
to its title was a continuous string of 
grotesque and absurd witticisms — so 
keen, dry and far-fetched that for a mom- 
ent no one could see a point, and eacn 
time a laugh was due the lecturer would 
pause until it came. With the first guffaw 
the audience seemed to catch on, and 
then it would go off like a corn-popper. 

When the uproar had su'bsided, sud- 
denly a spasmodic "Haw, haw, haw !" un- 
reserved as if from a burro corral, would 
attract all eyes to the "pew," and at each 
interruption Artemus paused again, and 
glaring in mock anger, said something 
funny, like, "Has it been watered today?" 
once saying, "You must now all admit 
the truth of the old saw that 'he who 
laughs last laughs best.' " 

Little did he think that that same 
laugh convulsed a greater genius than 
himself. Its tardiness was of a piece 
with Mark Twain's poky nature — even to 
his deliberate, drawling way of speaking, 
so often mentioned as one of his char- 
acteristics. 

During his brief stay in Virginia City 
Artemus had an elaborate introduction to 
its wild and woolly ways. He visited 

143 



HANDSET KEMINISCENCES 

every place where there were "sights," 
everywhere accompanied by a crowed of 
convivial spirits who (while enjoying his 
genial humor) were not unmindful of 
his prodigal generosity. 

Once as he was passing a gambling 
den two Philistines ran into the street 
and began shooting at each other. A 
dead man was the result. "Poor devil," 
said Artemus. "They told me over in 
San Francisco you people often get real 
mad, like that, but I was hoping my 
'Babes' would make you more tractable 
and better natured. I see it's no use. 
Thinking of the place he's on his way to 
makes me thirst for ice water. Let us 
repair to the deadfall of the publican yet 
again." 

Artemus went by stage from Nevada 
to the city of the Saints, where he hob- 
nobbed with Brigham Young, whom he 
referred to in his book as "the much- 
married man." On his last night in Vir- 
ginia City, after the lecture, he with a 
crowd visited a variety show, and to 
gratify his inordinate appetite for excite- 
ment and fun went on the stage as a 
blackface artist. Not even the actors 
knew who he was, and his friends and the 
manager never gave it away, for he was 

144 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

as bad an actor as he was great as a 
humorist. 

During the two years I was in Vir- 
ginia City J. T. Goodman was managing 
editor of the Territorial Enterprise, while 
Thomas Fitch, afterwards famous as the 
^'silver tongued orator of the west," was 
editor of the Virginia City Union — both 
morning papers. The Union had re- 
cently been moved from Carson City, 
where it circulated as the Golden Age. 
John Church was its managing editor and 
Adair Wilson a local writer while MJark 
Twain and Dan de Quille were the En- 
terprise locals. 

Joe Goodman was a handsome, reck- 
less young fellow, talented and brilliant, 
and could fill his editorial page off hand 
with articles on leading topics that would 
have done credit to a seasoned veteran. 
Tom Fitch was older, of wider experi- 
ence, and handled a caustic pen. (By the 
way, he acted as private secretary to 
James Buchanan during the campaign of 
1856, in which Mr. Buchanan was elected 
president.) 

Goodman and 'Fitch took a strong dis- 
like to each other, and as sometimes hap- 
pens even to this day, through their col- 
umns indulged in bitter personalities, in 
which Fitch seemed to rather have the 

145 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

best of it until one morning- the Enter- 
prise contained a sharp attack on his 
private character (more or less true) that 
called for blood. So Fitch challenged 
Goodman. 

Now this was just what Joe wanted, 
for he was mad enough to kill Fitch ; and 
the chances were in his favor, for he was 
rated one of the nerviest and best shots 
in the territory. One of his favorite re- 
sorts for pastime being a shooting gal- 
lery, it was common talk among his 
friends that he could hit a short bit four 
times out of five at ten paces. Nothing 
was known of Fitch's ability in that line. 

Seconds had perfected arrangem,ents 
for the affair to take place near the city, 
at 5 o'clock next morning; when friends 
having interfered, the principals were 
placed under $1000 bonds each to keep 
the peace by Judge C. C. Goodwin, then 
a justice of Storey county. 

It was then secretly agreed that the 
meeting need not necessarily be post- 
poned, as it was but twenty-eight miles 
to the California line, beyond which of 
course the Nevada court had no jurisdic- 
tion. So some time after midnight two 
hacks, containing principals, seconds and 
trusted friends, left the city and crossed 
the line in due time. 

146 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

Being challenged it was Goodman's 
privilege to name the weapons, and he 
chose duelling pistols. By agreement 
they were to stand at fifteen paces and 
fire at the dropping of a handkerchief. 
Should the first exchange be sans 
result, ''reload and repeat or retract and 
retreat." 

Joe Goodman went to his ground as 
jauntily as if on the way to a fair, his 
features betraying neither concern nor 
thought of the grave business before him,. 
He wore a boutonaire of wild fiowers, and 
as he stood there, bent to inhale their 
fragrance. Fitch, on the other hand, 
was pale, and with nerves at high tension 
walked stiffly to his place. It was be- 
lieved that at the last moment he would 
develop a yellow streak; but he proved 
to be game clear through. At the signal 
he swiftly raised his weapon, and fired 
before the handkerchief touched the 
ground. This was the first time he had 
ever pressed a hair trigger, and it be- 
trayed him. Though really a good shot 
his bullet went aimless and wide of the 
mark. He then dropped his arm, looked 
daggers at his adversary and coolly 
awaited his fate. 

Goodman now had Fitch at his mercy. 
Deliberately raising his weapon he aimed 
straight at his head and held the bead a 

147 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

moment. But if he thought a flinch was 
coming, he was off wrong. By his pose 
and glare of defiance' Fitch said, as plain- 
ly as in words: "Shoot, you coward — I 
am at your mercy!" 

No doubt the thought came to Good- 
man that he was about to kill a defense- 
less man, in cold blood; for suddenly his 
bearing changed — hesitation took the 
place of wicked determination. Glanc- 
ing toward the spot where his party was 
standing he winked, then deliberately 
lowered his aim, and Fitch hit the ground 
with a thud and a hole in a fleshy part of 
his right leg. 

One of the first to reach him was his an- 
tagonist, now "seeming more in sorrow 
than in anger." Goodman^s first words 
were something like this: "Fitch, Fm 
sorry I hurt you — ^couldn't be hired' to do 
it again, this way. You can take another 
shot at me, any time, and then if you 
like we'll call it off." 

The proposition was of course preposter- 
ous, but Fitch was overcome by itsi gener- 
osity. They afterwards became pretty 
good friends. 

In the Enterprise office was a printer 
named Stephen Gillis, who took great in- 
terest in this affair. Being a Mississippian 

148 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

born and bred, Steve had the duelhng" bug 
in his system to a fighting degree, and 
at times it seemed his greatest ambition 
was to meet an adversary on the field of 
honor, "by Gad, suh!" Wrathy because 
Goodman would not carry the meet to a 
sensational ending, Steve resolved then 
and there to seek satisfaction on his own 
hook. It was a cinch that with oppor- 
tunity he would fight all right, for being 
handy with his fists he had been the hero 
of many encounters in a rough and tumble 
way, always getting off without a scratch. 
•Traveling with "Little Ward," also an En- 
terprise printer, and on the side an all- 
around athlete, it was a dull Saturday 
night when they did not clean up a saloon 
or get the best of a street quarrel. 

Only the night before the big duel Steve 
had met with "Red Ed," foreman of the 
Union job room, and engaged in an ar- 
gument with him as to the merits of the 
difficulty. Now Red, standing six feet in 
his stockings, was quite muscular and had 
for years been a teacher of boxing and 
gymnastics in a gym. He was a red- 
haired, freckled-faced, good-natured Ver- 
monter, not very easy to get "riled;" but 
when Steve made several gratuitous re- 
marks about "flat-footed Yanks" and 
'^mudsills," something came into Red's 

149 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

steel blue eyes that did not look real good, 
and Steve craftily concluded not to 
chance his record in a fistic encounter, al- 
beit a remark had been made by Red that 
any gentleman must construe as a "coa'se 
insult, suh !" 

So it came to pass that next day after 
the meeting, as Red was at the imposing 
stone locking a form, a messenger came 
from the Enterprise office and handed him 
a note. It was couched in as mean, insult- 
ing language as the young southerner 
could command, and informed Red that 
though he was no gentleman — *'a low-bred, 
cowardly scrub, suh," if he wanted satis- 
faction he could have it, and knew where 
the writer could be found. 

Red's prevailing color may have deep- 
ened a little, but he uttered not a word. 
Writing at the bottom, ''Go soke your 
head!" he returned the note to the mes- 
senger, resuming the mallet and shooting- 
stick as though nothing had happened. 

Whether Steve followed Red's laconic 
advice I did not learn, but something must 
have taken the swelling out of his thinker, 
for this affair of ''honah" ended there. 

After this veracious account was writ- 
ten my attention was called to an autobi- 
ography of Sam Clemens, quoted in his 

150 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

"Hbw to Tell a Story." Therein it is re- 
lated that Clemens had a difficulty wlith a 
Mr. Laird, editor of the Union, a challeng-e 
was passed, and they went out to fight with 
navy revolvers at fifteen paces. Steve 
Gillis acted as Clemens' second. While 
preliminaries were under way, Steve 
hauled off and killed a sparrow at forty 
paces or such a matter. The shot was at- 
tributed to the great humorist, and Laird 
fled from the field. 

As a matter of fact, Jim Laird was not 
a writer though one of the Union com- 
pany and manager of the jobbing depart- 
ment. All that was "dead game" about 
him was a wooden leg. He was anything 
but a fighter — didn't look like he could 
shoot without shutting his eyes. So far as 
Clemens was concerned, the only time I 
ever knewi him to get next tO' an explosive 
was one Fourth of July, when he tied a 
bunch of crackers to a whiffet's tail. He 
may not have told the biographer about his 
duel except as a joke; but he had a weak- 
ness for posing as a star in his stories, and 
at a late day saw no harm, in relating the 
Gillis affair to suit his fancy. 

I shall have to let my version of it go 
uncorrected. 

Virginia City had a big fire in 1863, 
would have been wiped out but for the 

151 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

sudden changing of a strong wind. With 
the exception of two brick structures all 
the business buildings and tenements 
at that time were mere shells, constructed 
of mountain pine or fir, with tapestry- 
walls. They burned like timber. The 
Virginia hotel with three stories and con- 
taining upwards of two hundred rooms, 
was consumed in twenty minutes; and 
though it was midday few guests saved 
even their gripsacks. As I remember, 
about one-third of the city went up in 
smoke. 

There were two-hand engines, man- 
ned by companies largely composed of 
dive keepers, gamblers, toughs and bums. 
They were practically rival aggregations, 
those companies — each having desperate 
characters for their chiefs, while the chief 
engineer easily carried the trumpet as the 
champion brute. 

The water supply was scant, its only 
source being one of the Comstock's mine 
tunnels. In the midst of the morning it 
went dry and the chiefs decided to move 
their engines to possibly better positions. 
No. 1, working in D street was ordered 
up to C, while No. 2, in C street, started 
at the same time to go down to D. The 
chiefs were not on speaking terms, or 
what happened might have been avoided. 

152 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

They undertook to pass each other in Tay- 
lor street, little wider than an alley and 
guttered by freshets from Mount David- 
son until the roadbed was a deep, V- 
shaped cut. The engines slid to the cen- 
ter and locked. Accusations of careless- 
ness passed, one word brought on an- 
other, and a fight ensued in which over 
a hundred choice spirits took part. As 
they were "cribbed, cabined and con- 
fined" in the narrow space, it was like 
tying a couple of cats together and 
throwing them over a clothes line — ^Kil- 
kenny cats at that. Pistols, knives, 
wrenches and wagon stakes wiere instant- 
ly at a premium. Broken heads were too 
numerous to mention. Among the cas- 
ualties were four or five men killed. Jack 
Williams, city marshal — a bad man him- 
self — when the hostilities ceased had sev- 
eral kinds of lead in his system. It was 
necessary to plug such a case-hardened 
wretch through the heart to kill him, but 
only his kidneys, lights and liver were 
damaged, so he soon recovered. 

The Union office was in the second story 
of a building siding on Taylor street. 
Looking down on the melee we boys took 
it all in, as safely as grandees at a bull 
fight. It seemed to have lasted an hour, 
though ten minutes is a long time under 

153 



HANDSET KBMINISCENCES 

such circumstances. In the grand wind- 
up Macbeth and Miacduff used to cut and 
slash and back and fill for hours, it 
seemed to me as a boy; but I am now 
satisfied Macbeth made a hideous face 
and turned up his toes inside of two min- 
utes. 

Caught in the alley during* the un- 
pleasantness and endeavoring to make 
his getaway was a young printer with 
whom I was chummy, Ed. T. Plank. 
He was passing by an old wagon when a 
double-fisted fireman, armied with a stake, 
sneaked up from behind and struck a 
vicious blow at his head. I yelled, but 
the warning was too late. My friend 
landed in a limp heap under the wagon, 
and I believed him dead. That night at 
Maguire's I sat beside a man whose head 
was so bandaged I could not get a 
glimpse of his features, only visible from 
the stage. At the close of the play, when 
he arose and turned, I found it was my 
chum who had got his in the fireman's 
fight. 

A young fellow who had tramped to 
Virginia from the coast and arrived with 
such loud pedal extremities as to suggest 
the soubriquet of "Sugarfoot," for in- 
curring the jealousy of a barkeeper died 

164 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

with his boots on, so dramatically that 
1 must relate the incident. 

Though Sugarfoot made his living 
around gaming tables, he was always 
well dressed, quiet, never profane or vul- 
gar and seemed to have been bred a gen- 
tleman. If there was the trade-mark of 
a gambler about him it was not in sight. 
So he came to mingle quite freely with 
the more respectable class. I thought of 
him that there might be an influence 
somewhere, maybe a mother's love, that 
would yet reclaim him from the down- 
ward course. 

One evening I sat with other printers 
in a game for pastime (and the beer) 
when Sugarfoot came up and asked if 
he might take a hand. He stayed through 
a game then excused himself saying 
he had an engagement on C street, a 
block away. He had not been gone five 
minutes when we heard the report of a 
gun. As that, in Virginia City, meant 
trouble, we left the table and went out 
into the open. Several persons were run- 
ning toward C street, and our party fol- 
lowed. Turning into that street, we were 
confonted by a crowd on the walk, gath- 
ered around the body of a man. It was 
poor Sugarfoot, with his face and part of 
his head blown off. It transpired that as 

155 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

he was passing the saloon where his rival 
was employed, the barkeeper seized a 
double-barreled shotgun charged with 
buckshot and, from behind the counter 
emptied both barrels at his victim. 

There was no arrest. On the other 
hand the assassin had his wages raised 
for having attracted a crowd of custom- 
ers, w^ho called to learn the particulars, 
i ± 

Speaking of gamblers, one of the slick- 
est short-card players that ever struck 
"the land of Washoe" was Andy Bless- 
ington, mentioned by Mark Twain in his 
"Roughing It." I knew him well by sight. 
He was a bundle of nervous energy, full 
of fun, and when on the street usually the 
center of a crowd of idlers who appre- 
ciated good jokes. It was said of him 
that he could not get into a poker game 
wlith gamblers, it being a cinch that he 
would soon have all the money. 

One night in the Gould & Curry sa- 
loon, I was watching a game, when Andy 
addressed me: 

"Do you want to see some fun?" 

"Yes," I replied. "Where and what 
is it?" 

"Those fellows there are tenderfeet, 
just from over the divide, and ought to 
be initiated. They don't know me, or the 

156 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

game, more'n a jack rabbit. I'm broke. 
Stand in with me ten dollars' worth and 
watch. I pledge you my word that in 
half an hour I'll have them standing 
around with their hands in their pockets 
wondering how it happened." 

"No, I'm not looking for that kind of 
easy money." 

"Well, then, lend me ten dollars and if 
you're not here when the jig is up I'll re- 
turn it tomorrow." 

It was as safe as a bank to lend any 
gambler a small sum, for in the code of 
their fraternity it was understood to be 
a reflection on all for any one of them to 
owe money borrowed on the outside. 
They were all liable to strike a lean 
streak at any time and need "the price." 
So, if one went back on his word that 
way, he was tabooed by the gang — boy- 
cotted — which meant that he might as 
well hunt for pastures new. 

Impulsively I handed him the money 
and lingered to see the result As he left 
me he lifted a pack of cards from his 
coat pocket and winked, which gave me 
to understand that it was a "cold deck." 
All he said was, "Watch me," and a mo- 
ment later he was in the game. 

The first thing he did was to place 
the "stacked" cards on his right knee. 

157 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Then he got busy. The game was played 
with quarters and halves for chips, and 
it was a rule that the winner of a *'pot" 
also wion the deal. Every time consid- 
erable bets were made before the draw, 
Andy would pile the coin in a single 
stack, and somehow two or three halves 
would stick to his palm. In this way he 
had nearly doubled his capital, when he 
won a pot, again doubled his money and 
took the deal. His movements were so 
smooth and quick that, though watch- 
ing, I actually did not see him swap the 
cards, but after they were dealt he looked 
up at me and winked again, as he slyly 
took the discarded deck from his knee and 
put it in his pocket. 

Then the fun began. The ''sucker" 
next to Andy made a smiall bet and it 
was called and raised three times suc- 
cessively. Then Andy stacked up the 
contributions, a couple of dollars again 
stuck to his palm, and he came back with 
his whole bundle. All stayed, while the 
man with the next best hand made sev- 
eral bets on the side. 

The show down was great. There were 
three "full hands" and two sets of 
"fours !" 

The nerve of him! AnyT other man 
making a deal like that would have been 
shot on the spot, but Andy was wise^ — 

158 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

had hypnotized his victims with funny 
stories, and that made them too good 
natured to quarrel. Three of the players 
went broke. He of the side winnings had 
about twenty dollars, and Andy proposed 
to cut cards for the whole. He accepted 
and lost. There was then not a dollar 
on the table outside of Andy's pile. The 
end had come in less than half an hour. 
All Andy said was: "Well, Fm d— d! 
That was the biggest luck I ever saw in 
a poker game. Boys, the drinks are on 
me. Whad'll you have?" 

± 4 

At Maguire's opera house one night, 
while the audience was waiting for the 
curtain it was entertained with a by- 
play not on the bills. A notorious gun- 
man named Howard, without prelude, 
whipped out a big navy and began firing 
at another roughneck, named Macnab, 
w^ho was seated in the same circle on the 
opposite side of the house. Instantly there 
was a rush from the seats in the vicinity 
of Macnab, who sat with his hands up, 
signifying that he was unarmed. 

"An' you call yourself a sport," yelled 
Howard, a'goin' around without a gun 
on? Go heel yerself, 'cause I'm goin' 
to git ye on sight." 

159 



HANDSET KEMINISCENCES 

Macnab obeyed the order. Howard, 
a few days later, trying to keep his word, 
died with his boots on. He had seven 
nicks on the butt of his pistol — a record 
of the number of men he had killed. 

The temporary account of empty boxes 
and a few damaged seats around where 
Macnab was sitting were the only other 
results of the theater shooting. I hap- 
pened to be in the stampede. 

I left the Virginia Union by "special 
request," as the sequence of an incident 
that happened six months previously. 
Subs were scarce then, and I had put in 
two or three ringers under compulsion, 
when one morning a printer named Joe 
Eckley, just in from California, showied 
up and went to work for me. 

Joe was a first-class compositor, without 
a blemish, but had the misfortune to be 
ilightly deaf. 

Next morning as I entered the office the 
foreman — Sam Glessner — said to me: 

"J. B., you'll have to go to work today, 
or put on another sub." 

"Howl so?" 

"I don't want that man Eckley around 
here. You have to throw a mallet at him 
to make him hear." 

160 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

''But Sam, he has worked for years on 
the coast without that objection ever be- 
ing raised. Besides, he knows the busi- 
ness and don't have to be spoken to often. 
His card, and humanity, should insure him 
from being fired for such a reason." 

''Well you heard what I said, and it 
goes." 

I was indignant, and did not return to 
the office for a week. 

Nothing had been said about my being 
fired, so when in the humor I returned to 
my cases. As Sam^ came in he gave me 
a stony stare that told me two things. 
On second thought he had concluded that 
to bar Eckley for such a cause would in- 
volve him in a personal difficulty, and 
might bring on a strike; while to let me 
out for keeping him on would have a like 
effect. Secondly, he had a grudge laid 
away for me, that would be uncanned on 
the first opportunity. He was a pusilani- 
mous cur that no one liked — given to 
grudges and contemptible w^ays. 

What followed proved that I had the sit- 
uation down pat. Eckley subbed in the 
Union as long as he liked, and so far as 
I know never learned of the attempt to 
bar him. Years after he was appointed 
state printer of Nevada, holding the posi- 
tion for a number of terms. 

161 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Incidentally, there was a grudge on the 
side that may have had something to do 
with my ultimate ''layoff.'' In the first 
year of the rebellion, when the governmient 
was hard pressed for specie and had not 
yet issued the fractional paper currency 
which proved such a boon to the country, 
postage stamps were used in the eastern 
states for change. No greater abomina- 
tion was ever circulated as money. If one 
happened to have a pocket full and they 
got damp, just imagine how they resolved 
themselves into a stuck- up, impossible wad, 
until laundried not worth a beer. 

On the other hand, at this time there 
was a United States mint at Virginia City, 
coining bullion from the Comstock lode, 
and the town was overrun with new silver 
quarters and halves until the government 
found a way to transfer the mint's output 
to the national treasury. Then came an 
order forbidding the issuing of a dollar of 
specie locally. Previously it had become 
so plentiful as to go at 3 per cent discount, 
and the Union company, with many other 
business firms, was turning an honest 
penny by exchanging its gold collections at 
the mint for silver. So' it followed that 
week after week when the ghost walked 
the Union boys needed gunnysacks in 
which to carry away their plunder. For 

162 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

instance, if one had made $50 he wias cer- 
tain to be handed $10 in quarters and $40 
in halves. Following a protest, one week 
the force refused to accept the all-silver 
proposition ; whereupon in a rage the com- 
pany changed the silver to all gold, and af- 
ter that none was paid to us except in odd 
change of less than $2.50. 

This tale is none toO' long for the size of 
the cat. Within six weeks after the gov- 
ernment order went into effect silver actu- 
ally went to a premium., so scarce it had 
become. The banks no longer paid it out ; 
and the city being dependent on freight- 
ers, they received for their goods and car- 
ried away about all the currency in cir- 
culation. 

Then we were up against a condition 
more disagreeable than the first. If one's 
name was on the roll for $62.50, he 
would receive three twenties and a $2.50 
piece, then could hunt for, change in vain 
the city over. About the only way to 
break a twenty was to buy a stack of faro 
checks. I remember of tendering one suc- 
cessively for a meal check, room rent and 
current expenses, and at the end of the 
week still having the piece, mortgaged for 
more than its face. 

In time the change famine was eased up 
by importations from California; but 

163 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the Union office had a grouch, just the 
same, that could be felt for a long time. 
Frequent sarcastic remarks handed out by 
Sam Glessner gave me to understand I had 
been spotted as a chief instigator of the 
"gold strike." 

In the summer of 1864 one day the bot- 
tom fell out of Virginia City. To be more 
explicit, at the beginning of a certain week 
the boom was on, with everything moving 
pretty much as usual — the miners wtere 
employed, newi properties were developing, 
capital was being invested, and there 
seemed the usual amount of money in cir- 
culation. At the week's end something 
like a panic was on. Capital had gone into 
hiding, non-producing mines and wildcats 
had closed down, many men were idle, 
money was scarce. This was the legiti- 
miate result of incautious investments and 
a scandalous amount of wildcatting, with 
dark transactions on the local and San 
Francisco mining exchanges that had been 
going on for many months. The prodigi- 
ously rich Comstock lode, with its steady 
outpour of wealth and limitations not yet 
defined, seemed to have impressed many 
with the belief that all Washoe was under- 
laid with a blanket of silver. When the 
break came such alarm took possession of 
everybody engaged in mining, legitimate 

164 



THE FIRST SILVER BOOM 

and otherwise, that a long period of dull- 
ness followed. 

The effect of this panic can be well illus- 
trated by telling what it did to the news- 
papers. Within a month the Enterprise 
and Union were on hardtack rations, while 
a couple of struggling sheets had furnish- 
ed stiffs for the beginning of a newpaper 
boneyard. Whereas, before the scare the 
big papers were crowded with ads and used 
5 and 6-point body type, the Union's edi- 
torials were now in 10-point, its news in 
7-point and miscellany in juicy 11-point. 
It was awful. 

As I entered the office one morning my 
friend Sam sat in the bull pen, red-eyed, 
an hour before due. He looked almost 
glad about something, and before a word 
was spoken I had a hunch that he had dug 
it up. 

"J. B., you'll have to lay off for a 
while," he said. 

"For which, though mine are among 
the oldest cases, I venture to hope you 
won't allow your feelings to unnerve you." 

"Back talk isn't necessary. Your cases 
are vacant." 

"Oh, I w'as just joshing, you know. I'm 
going to bottle my back talk for future 
use. You'll have to go a flying out ol 
here yourself within three months, and 

165 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

then, Sam, if you hoof it to the coast, my 
turn will come." 

Many of the boys had to leave Virginia 
City, and there was but one way out — 
coastward. I never saw Glessner again. 
He, with other printers, forming a stock 
company, took over the Union and plant 
for what was coming to them. But the 
daisies had blown over its final resting 
place long before 1867, when Virginia 
City was entering upon its second boom 
— the biggest in its history. 



166 



The Inspired Liar, 



In the quite long ago James W. E. 
Townsend (otherwise *'Ji^")> printer, 
jokesmith and reformed sailor, had a rep- 
utation in California as a tolerable wit, 
and an all-around liar in narrative and 
harmless form. 

O'ccasionally Jim would say funny 
things calculated to make a wit of na- 
tional reputation stop to listen; but un- 
like Mark Twain, he always laughed 
louder than anybody at his own jokes; 
also, he was strictly original — lacking 
Twain's abnormal gift of making mer- 
chandise of the thoughts of others by 
masquerading them in unrecognizable 
togs. When it came to spinning Mun- 
chausen-like yarns, with himself as the 
hero, he easily had Twain skinned. 

I first worked with Jim Townsend in 
the composing room of the San Francisco 
Mirror, a consumptive sheet of some note 
in its brief day. It hit the newspaper 
cemetery early in the sixties. He after- 
wards worked with me on the Virginia 
City (Nev.) Union. 

When on standing time he would of- 
ten convulse "the alley" with some lively 

167 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

personal experience which nobody be- 
lieved, during the telling of which his 
high-tenor hee-haw would echo from 
buildings across the street. 

But there was a streak of unaccount- 
able dullness in his makeup, for one so 
bright in other ways. To illustrate, one 
night while setting time copy, consisting 
of a pinch of unpasted jokelets, he sang 
out: 

''Say, boss, there's a joke on both sides 
of this piece." 

''That's not your fault. Set 'em up," 
said the foreman. 

When the proof came Jim had to lift 
these lines on to the dead galley: 

"Gadzooks ! a coward, quotha ? Nay, 
then, draw villian, and I will smite thee 
hip and thigh." (Evidently from a story.) 

Townsend was something of a practi- 
cal joker, too. I recall one of the fun- 
niest things he ever perpetrated, though 
it had a singular and serious ending. 

On the Mirror was subbing a broken- 
down, drunken ex-editor from, the inter- 
ior known as "Warhorse" Jones. He 
would work a few days, then be drunk 
a few weeks, until he came to be lined 
up as a chronic old bum. 

When a writer, "Warhorse" acquired 
a reputation for sensational bellicose at- 

168 



AN INSPIRED LIAR 

titudes. He was a bitter secessionist, and 
when the war broke out seldom put an 
edition to press that did not make the 
country fairly shudder for miles around. 
Every week he mopped the earth with 
"Abraham Africanus the First," as he 
called our beloved president, and for 
light diversion obliterated several es- 
teemed union contemporaries if they 
chanced to cross him>. He was everlast- 
ingly about to fight a duel, but on one 
pretext or another never did. He actu- 
ally scared a man out of the state on 
one occasion. Generally well knov/n to 
be an arrant coward, to many his vio- 
lence was a source of great amusement 
and originated his nickname. 

Among Jones' peculiarities was a mor- 
bid horror of smallpox. Seldom a day 
passed that he did not refer to the dread 
disease with bated breath. Once after 
a prolonged spree he staggered into the 
office in a shaky condition, his face spat- 
tered with mud from the wheels of some 
vehicle. Townsend, at the dead stone 
about to lift a handful, suddenly struck 
an attitude of fright and yelled: 

''Great God ! Warhorse, what's the 
matter with you?" 

Jones turned pale, but reckoned he 
was only feeling bad for the want of a 
drink. 

169 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

^'Drink !" exclaimed Jim, backing 
away. "Why man, you're all broke out 
with smallpox. Look in the glass." 

Across the office was a mirror, and 
in it Jones caught a glimipse of his soiled 
face. Uttering a cry of terror, he leaned 
against the dead stone for support. Jim 
then edged up a little and said compas- 
sionately : 

"Now, Warhorse, listen: Don't you 
lose a minute in getting to the hospital. 
You'll give us all a dose if you don't 
light right out. If you're too sick to 
walk I'll send for a dray." 

Jones then braced up, and without a 
word staggered out of the door. Sev- 
eral days later word came from the pest 
house that he wias there, so badly dis- 
figured with pustules his intimate friends 
would not know him. In fact, he went 
through every stage of the disease and 
came near dying. 

The case caused much comment 
among physicians, and was the subject 
of a lengthy article in a medical journal 
bearing on similar phenomena. His doc- 
tors decided that he had simulated the 
disease through abnormal fear, and in 
fact did not have smallpox at all. 

On one occasion Townsend related 
how he was once on a three years* whal- 

170 



AN INSPIRED LIAR 

ing voyage in the northern Pacific; that 
when the jig was up the ship sailed 
south, made Honolulu harbor and 
dropped anchor for a few days. 

While on shore he happened into a 
daily paper offi'ce, and making himself 
known was asked to go on cases for a 
day. Niothing loth, he peeled his coat 
and in eight hours piled up 14,400 of solid 
brevier ('S-point). That string, he said, 
paralyzed the foreman, w|ho had never 
before seen a printer wiho could average 
more than 1,100, and said a ''hand" who 
could stick type like that ought to be 
willing to work for two-thirds of the 
scale. 

Nlow Jim was really a 1,700-an-hour 
swift. So this story easily added one 
more to his wealth of fairy tales, for 
fancy a comp with caloused hands, stiff 
with "tar, pitch and turpentine," after 
three years on shipboard striking an 
1,800-an-hour gait! 

While on another alleged whaling 
voyage, this time in the south seas, his 
vessel was wrecked near one of the Fegee 
islands, and he with five other tars was 
rescued by the natives. They had not 
yet been converted from the broiled mis- 
sionary habit, and after a protracted 
counsel decided upon having a grand 

171 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

feast at every new moon so long as the 
sailors lasted. The unfortunates were 
placed in a pen, and every month Jim 
saw the fattest of. his comrades led away 
to the music of kettle drums, until he 
only rem^ained. He was a skinny, lan- 
tern-jawed New Englander, so had the 
rest easily scooped for last place. 

When at length his turn 'came the 
king appeared, preceded by drums and 
followed by half-a-dozen islanders in 
single file. They felt of Jim's ribs with 
a no-good grunt, but opened the pen and 
he saw that after his six-months' weary 
wait it was all off v^ith him. 

The king was togged out for a grand 
wind-up, and would brook no delay. He 
had on an extra coating of paint, a mis- 
sionary's plug hat and a red necktie, 
which was all the clothing in the crowd 
except the rings in their ears. 

In the return procession Jim was 
placed immediately behind the king. It 
seemed a cinch, he said, that he would 
be next to the fire in a few minutes, so 
for a parting diversion and to stretch 
himself after the long confinement he 
sprang to the side of the king, gave him 
a high sign and began a series of gro- 
tesque postures and kowtow^s that par- 
alysed the islanders, ending with a 

172 



an: inspired liar 

salaam to the cardinal points of the com- 
pass. Then he handed the king a plug 
of tobacco, that he had concealed under 
his shirt though he did not use the weed. 

Hiding that tobacco was the luckiest 
move Jim ever made. The? mere sight of 
it was electrical, for his benighted cap- 
tors had learned that to eat flesh satu- 
rated with tobacco meant deathly sick- 
ness. The king rolled his eyes skyward 
and gagged; then they all gagged. 

After a consultation, all meanwhile 
eyeing Jim, with loathing, he was re- 
turned to the pen innocent of what was 
the matter. 

Next morning, however, he was taken 
before the king, who by signs gave him 
to understand he was an immune, being 
no good for culinary purposes. It seems, 
too, the king had taken a great shine to 
Jim on account of his graceful posturing 
and gall. It ended in his being adopted 
!by the islanders and forced to marry one 
of the king's daughters — ^with the view, 
he presumed, of improving the breed. 
Finally he was made the king's viceroy, 
or something like that, and he said he 
might have lived there happily ever after 
but for having made his escape on an 
English brig that touched the island for 
water, leaving a son as bow-legged and 
black as its mother. 

173 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

A trick that Townsend played along 
in the eighties seemed to have savored 
more of cupidity than fun, and got him 
into disrepute, among those not on the 
inside at least. 

He was editing and printing a small 
weekly up Grass Valley way, that was in 
the political interest of the owner — a 
candidate for a county office. Jim had not 
been paid for several weeks, the sheet 
was to be closed down at the end of the 
campaign, and it began to look very much 
like he would have to walk out. 

In a saloon one evening he was dis- 
cussing his boss in uncomplimentary 
terms, and mentioned the unpaid stip- 
end. It happened that the opposition 
candidate was one of several listeners. 
Calling Jim to one side he said : 

"Look a here, pardner, you ought to 
know by this time that that thar boss 
of yourn is a dead beat an' no good on 
earth. He won't pay you a dollar. With 
that thar paper he has the "age" on me, 
an' I'll tell you what I'll do: "If you'll 
throw out his truck and turn the ed- 
itorial page of the next issue over to me, 
I'll see you get your wages in full and 
give you $200 on the side." 

Jim accepted the proposition. 
All Friday night the conspirators 
worked with curtains down ; the edition 

174 



AN INSPIRED LIAR 

was made ready for the postoffice, and 
Jim took mighty good care at daylight 
next morning to hit the stage for Frisco 
•■ — ^maybe to journey on and rejoin his 
dusky partner in the Fegees. 

I do not know how the election re- 
sulted, and have never since heard di- 
rectly of the inspired liar. 



2 75 



Union Man in a Rat Hole, 



In the spring of 1865 I blew into N'ew 
York from the Pacific coast, after five 
years' absence. May 1, at Aspinwall, 
on climbing to the deck of the Atlantic 
steamship, the first thing I saw was a 
large placard nailed to one of the masts, 
which read: 

''President Abraham Lincoln was as- 
sassinated on the night of April 14 by 
John Wilkes Booth, the actor, while at- 
tending a performance at Ford's theater, 
Washington." 

Imagine the sensation caused by that 
announcement among the more than 1,000 
passengers ! 

I mention this incident because of the 
fact that the San Francisco Press, a "se- 
cesh" "rat" sheet, re-echoed the cry of 
the assassin, "Sic semper tyrannis!" for 
which the office was gutted and its con- 
tents thrown into the streets by an in- 
furiated mob ; and the Press, then and 
there surrendering up the ghost, has in- 
directly to do with this story. 

I was made a member of No. 6 M'ay 
12, 1860, and worked on the Herald until 

176 



UNION MAN IN A RAT HOLE 

the following fall; so on my return na- 
turally ''showed up" there. The chapel 
father reported a big sub list, and sug- 
gested that as I was little known outside 
of the Herald I should go over to the 
World and strike Pinkerton for a job. 

This man Pinkerton is no doubt re- 
membered by many oldtimers as one of 
the meanest, most vicious *'rats" the 
earth ever produced. He was an over- 
grown, brutish-looking fellow, with a 
voice like a steam whistle^ — shrewd as he 
was unfair. When he snorted an order 
from the bullpen some trembling rodent 
was sure to drop a handful of type. After 
growing a long tail in Philadelphia, Pink- 
erton went to New York and induced the 
management of the World to make him 
foreman and employ non-union men, 
a gang of whom was always at his 
beck. Be it said in extenuation for the 
World owners that at the time he applied 
to them they had sunk upwards of $300,- 
000, and were willing to accept most any 
proposition looking to a reduction of ex- 
penses. 

No. 6 was anxious to sneak union men 
into the office, with the view of ulti- 
mately rooting Pinkerton out. Let me 
state here that the scheme worked beau- 
tifully. It was soon discovered by us 
"square men" that he was systematic- 

177 



HANOSET REMINISCENCES 

ally falsifying his reports and pocketing 
the pay of several dummies regularly ap- 
pearing in his composition accounts ; also, 
that some ten girls who were setting the 
fat matter in a side room were of doubt- 
ful reputation, and the room was slyly 
referred to, even by his henchmen, as 
'Tinkerton's harem." 

These facts having been laid before 
the managem;ent by a union committee, 
an investigation resulted in Pinkerton 
and his gang being incontinently fired. 
He was also arrested and forced to cough 
up some of his pilferings. 

From that day the World has been, 
I believe, a staunch union office. So I 
can congratulate myself that the World 
is some better for my having lived. 

Of course, I had to ask permission of 
Pinkerton to be placed on the sub list. 
He wanted to know where I worked last 
and I said on the San Francisco Press — 
which I trust was an excusable lie. He 
posted my name, and within a few min- 
utes I was throwing in on No. 36 

N'ext morning Pinkerton bawled out: 

"Who worked on 36 last night?" I 
answered that I did. 

"Come 'ere !" and on my arrival at the 
bullpen he asked : 

"How long since you arrived from 
Trisco?" 

178 



UNION MAN IN A RAT HOLE 

"A week." 

"Ever worked in New York before?" 

"No." 

"You are not a union man?" 

"No." 

"You look like you have the union 
'brand on you somewhere, but I want to 
get rid of that d^ — d clam-catcher holding 
36, and you may represent it until further 
orders. Mind your own business, and 
keep your mouth shut." 

There was a daisy rule — that the dirt- 
iest take had to correct the whole galley ; 
and say, it was a corker! The black- 
smiths \yould set type three hours and 
hamjmer the rest of the night. If this 
rule was intended, to weed out the worst, 
it was all right. They soon got Weary. 
In the next six weeks not a galley was 
passed to me. 

One day I had my cases thrown in 
by a noted San Francisco forty-niner, 
who in the golden days was paid at the 
rate of $150 for six day's work at case. 
He had degenerated somewhat, but was 
still a good printer when not boozed. On 
this occasion he wlas pretty shaky and 
"mixed the babies up" 

I did not read my sticks and that night 
a "take" full of typographical errors 
was passed to me. The proof as a whole 
was a sight. I corrected my matter, 

179 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

pulled my slug, and laid the galley along- 
side of the night foreman, explaining how 
my cases came to be foul and saying 
that as I had no anvil I could not correct 
the rest 

It w;as miy turn to get fired, but I 
heard nothing more of it, possibly for the 
reason that among the forty alleged print- 
ers there were not more than a dozen 
good ones — most of them "sneaks" like 
myself. (Among the latter was Arens- 
burg, the "fast crab," who on a bet set 
nearly 2,200 of solid minion in sixty min- 
utes.) 

Manton Marble was the editor of the 
World. Horace Greeley was then editor 
of the Tribune, James Gordon Bennett — 
the elder — of the Herald, Charles A. Dana 
of the Sun and Raymond of the Times. 
What a galaxy! "Niewspaper Row," or 
the world, never before or after saw such 
an array of brilliant writers within gun- 
shot of each other, and at times all mad 
enough to shoot. 

It was Mr. Marble's habit to prepare 
his copy during the day, attend a club 
or theater during the evening, and show 
up about 11 o'clock for proofs, and woe 
to the piker who delayed a galley. 

0!ne night an editorial severely crit- 
icizing General Dianiel E. Sickles, the gal- 
lant one-legged civil war veteran, was 

180 



UNION MAN IN A RAT HOLE 

run out. It was a day or two after the 
encounter in Washington in which Gen- 
eral Sickles shot and killed Philip Barton 
Key for alleged intimacy with M'rs. Sick- 
les, then a popular leader of Washington 
society. General Sickles himself had a 
past master's reputation as a gay Lo- 
thario and, as he was figuring in politics 
as a Republican, the article scathingly 
denounced the killing as the cowardly 
act of a disreputable bully. 

I had emptied a small take of the 
stuff and was on "waiting time," when 
I noticed that the rodent on 37 was in 
trouble. M*-. Marble's manuscript was 
nearly as bad as Horace Greeley's "chow- 
chow," and, with a take before him 37 
was leaning on his elbows in despair. 
Suddenly he said: 

"Excuse me, but I've l>een to every 
man in the alley, and not one can read 
'this piece,' or start it. Can you?" 

I had glanced at the manuscript and 
saw at once that it was a pertinent quo- 
tation from "Richard HI" which I could 
quote from memory. 

"What's the miatter with you?" I said 
"That copy is like re-print." 

"Well, I don't know about that, but 
I do know I don't want to lose my situa- 
tion, and will give you a dollar to take 
it off my hands." 

181 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"Dig up" 
He handed over the price and reached 
for the copy, when I told him to leave it 
where it was. I then set the following, 
only referring to the manuscript a couple 
of times for feet and punctuation: 

"Now are our brows bound with victorious 

wreaths, 
Our bruised arms held up as monuments; 
Our stern alarms changed to merry meetings, 
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
Grim-visaged war has smoothed his wrinkled 

front, 
Aiid now, instead of mounting barbed steeds 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
To the lascivious ipleasing of a lute." 

Fancy that poor rodent's astonish- 
ment when the proof came with that take 
in blank verse and not an error ! 

He never spoke to me again, knowing 
that I despised him ; but his eyes haunted 
me for weeks like a board bill. When- 
ever I was working and he waiting for 
copy, I never turned without catching 
him gazing at me intently, as if I were 
a being of supernatural powers ; and I 
surmise the ease with which I disposed 
of the manuscript and took his dollar was 
a mystery that he never solved or forgot. 



.1S2 



Savannah Just After the War, 



An all-around printer, and a good one, 
early in 1866 I was a new arrival at Sa- 
vannah, Georgia, from New York City. 

Savannah then had three dailies— the 
Republican, Niews and Advertiser. I be- 
gan subbing on the News, and had in 
several strings, when a committee from 
the Republican chapel called on me. A 
serious business requiring immediate ad- 
justment had arisen between the chapel 
and proprietor, and trouble was feared. 
New ibody-type had been put on, '*min- 
ionette," alleged to be "minion," but it 
was four lines to the thousand less than 
minion and way under the scale. The 
boys were home-made (Georgia "crack- 
ers"), and, it being just after the war, 
knew more about filling "Yanks" with 
old type-metal than firing type at a gal- 
ley ; but it needed no wise guy from New 
York to tell them they were being hand- 
ed something awfful. What they wanted 
to know was what to do, as in such cases 
m^ade and provided. They having passed 
it up to me, after careful measurements 
I suggested that if they would make up 
a scale nonpareil one way and minion the 
other it would be about the thing. 

183 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

This plan worked, to the disgust of an 
"old spav" in the front office, who had 
been allowed to order the new dress upon 
representing to the proprietor that he 
could save him some money. The pro- 
prietor was not a practical printer or he 
would have known better. 

Foreman Henry Middleton was in 
tribulation that day. The Johnny who 
held the ship-news case had thrown up 
his job, saying it was "too hard," and for 
the same reason no one around the of- 
fice would have it. Plain reprint-pound- 
ers wiere those early-day "crackers." Mr. 
Middleton put me on the cases for that 
night, but the next day told me to keep 
them, and told me to use my own judg- 
ment as to style, so the department 
would be reasonably fat. Thenceforth 
12,000 was an average string for the un- 
dersigned. 

The Republican was owned by John. 
E. Hayes, no doubt remembered by relics 
of the last generation as the intrepid war 
correspondent of the New York Tribune. 
At the front he was a tireless worker, 
and a wonder as a reporter, giving the 
most brilliant, complete and accurate ac- 
counts of battles, skirmishes and army 
movements; and, by sending them Niorth 
by the first courier leaving headquarters 
with dispatches, he enabled the Tribune 

184 



SAVANNAH JUST AFTER THE WAR 

to scoop all competitors. People won- 
dered how the Tribune managed to print 
the news one day ahead. 

Hayes was solid with the generals 
and corps commanders, because he drew 
the line on strategical movements and 
they could trust him. This virtue made 
him a great favorite with General Sher- 
man, with whom he marched through 
Georgia, and whose tent he is said to 
have often shared. 

When Savannah capitulated he was 
one of the first to enter its lines, and in 
a few weeks was handing to its unrepent- 
ant citizens a first-class, red-hot Repub- 
lican daily. This was made possible by 
his finding and the confiscation of a com- 
plete rebel newspaper plant that had been 
stored away early in the war, when news- 
print ran short. General Sherman turned 
the plant over to Hayes, who went North 
and succeeded in digging up a prominent 
politician with money and an eye on a 
Georgia senatorship or something like 
that. While most of the people were 
still sullen, rebellious at heart, and not 
in need of Yankee papers, the city's busi- 
ness interests, stimulated by Northern 
capital, were rapidly reviving and af- 
forded commercial patronage that went 
far toward paying the Republican's ex- 
penses. 

185 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

'Mr. Hayes, being an irrepressible se- 
cession hater, lost no opportunity to 
pump hot newspaper shot into the older 
rebels who were instrumental in forcing 
Georgia into the fight. One time he 
got more than he sent, as the sequel will 
show. 

Just before hostilities began there 
were $40,000 of government funds in the 
Savannah postoffice, and the postmaster, 
Solomon by name, was relieved of the 
cash by a band of guerrillas. Solomon 
was one of the most prominent and re- 
spected of Savannah's citizens, but the 
Republican got after him, alleging that 
he had connived to turn the trust over to 
the confederacy. Hayes was sued for 
criminal libel. In the suit that followed 
it was proved that Solomon had repeated- 
ly warned the authorities at Washington 
that the funds were in peril and asked 
to be relieved of the responsibility. The 
verdict was a fine of $1,000 or six months' 
imprisonment. Hayes argued that the 
$1,000 would be easy money and took the 
six months, writing his editorials from 
the county jail. 

One night he sent in a "must" that 
made a column. It related that Professor 
Alexis, a noted far-eastern traveller, was 
a passenger on the English barque Hindu, 
reported in the shipping lists as ar- 
ise 



SAVANNAH JUST AFTER THE WAR 

riving that day with a cargo of silks 
from Calcutta, India ; that the pro- 
fessor had just spent several years 
in the interior of India and Tibet, 
during which he had by close in- 
vestigation gained an insight into mys- 
teries and occult wonders practiced by 
the mahatmas and fakirs; that among 
those of which the professor had prac- 
tical knowledge was power to suspend 
the effect of flames and heat, by which, 
like Shadrach, Mjeshach and Abednego of 
old, a possessor of this strange secret wias 
enabled to pass through the fiercest 
flames unharmed ; that the professor, be- 
ing a former college chum and intimate 
friend of the editor, had been induced by 
Mr. Hayes to postpone his intended im- 
mediate departure for Washington, and 
at 10 o'clock on the following day would 
give a free exhibition of this miraculous 
power in the city park. 

Next morning, in the center of the 
park, where ground had just been broken 
for the site of a public building, were 
piled five kerosene barrels. I have a vivid 
recollection of this fact, for, with the en- 
tire Republican gang, I wanted to be 
shown, and, when the "jig was up," in- 
stead of going to bed I had stayed up to 
see the sight. We marched to the park 
together, and had an excellent view of 

187 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the barrels. Many people had arrived, 
and by 10 o'clock nearly every inhabitant 
except the halt and the blind was leaning 
on the fence or reclining on the green 
sward. 

Overlooking the park was the county 
jail, and the editor's cell wlindow. Seated 
at a table, he was apparently preparing 
copy, occasionally glancing at the crowd 
in an abstracted manner. The crowd 
viewed the formidable display of barrels 
in silence, no doubt awed by thoughts of 
the wonder about to happen. Darkies 
in droves looked on, wild-eyed, with a 
rabbit's foot in each hand. 

But as 10 o'clock went by, and minute 
after minute elapsed with no sign of the 
professor, the crowd began to be rest- 
less. At about 10:30, a lank-looking 
Johnny slouched over to the center of 
attraction and gave one of the casks a 
kick. It was empty ! 

For a minute everybody stopped 
breathing. Then the Johnny mounted 
the barrel and shouted : 

"Mr. Mayor, suh, I reckon this heah 
crowd has been fooled good and plenty. 
This bein' the 1st of April, when we-all 
can stand a little fun, I move you, suh, 
that we give three cheers for John E. 
Hayes." And say, those cheers were 
given with a hearty good will and a tiger. 

188 



SAVANNAH JUST AFTER THE WAR 

The incident proved a capital adver- 
tisement for the Republican. From that 
day the editor had the passive good will 
at least of many natives to the manor 
\born who before had hated him. Upon 
his release he went north for a respite, 
and incidentally to mend his finances. 

Knov/ing that Mr. liayes was hard 
pushed, and that his employees held him 
in high regard, as the holidays came on 
the Republican manager suggested that, 
unknown to the editor, we get up a Christ- 
man edition (newspapers were not pub- 
lished then on holidays) and turn the 
net proceeds over to him as an expression 
of our good will. 

The scheme started in like a charm, 
and, so far as patronage was concerned, 
columns and columns of juicy advertis- 
ing were secured in a day. Then we all 
worked overtime and, at the end of a 
week, on Christmas Eve, had all but the 
last pages printed of an edition, good 
at least, for the price of the editor's fine. 
Then there came a crash. The last 
forms were being sent down when, just 
as they were put into the slide, the hoist 
rope broke and the next instant they 
were in the basement, a fearful mass 
of pi. 

The situation was hopeless. The pied 
matter included the front page and most 

189 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

of the solid reading. With copy de- 
stroyed and everybody "all in," the pages 
could not be reproduced. 

On Christmas Day there was a discov- 
ery that would make good stuff for **the 
denouement" of a novel. The sliderope 
being a new one, Mir. Mliddleton was at 
a loss to conceive how it could possibly 
have parted. Curiosity led him to ex- 
amine the supposed broken ends, and the 
mystery was solved. The rope had been 
nearly severed with a sharp knife. 

The old spav in the front office had 
opposed this enterprise from the begin- 
ning, and done everything he could to 
throw it. He was a dyed-in-the-wool 
"secesh" and hated Mr. Hayes. Also, as 
it proved, he was a past master in mak- 
ing a get-away, for after that dreadful 
Christmas he was never seen in Savan- 
nah again. 



190 



A Tourist's Strike. 



Many old handsets, of the Northern 
states and Canada at least, remember 
when the Dletroit Free Press went into 
the union junk heajp^ — a'bout 1868^ — the 
result of a strike that, as I have always 
believed, with a little diplomacy might 
have been avoided. 

Just returned from the west, I caught 
on at the Free Press and threw in cases 
the very day of the walkout. Several 
times while distributing I noticed knots 
of the boys in earnest conversation, but 
had no idea of what was up. To this 
day I do not know the real inside of the 
differences that were breeding trouble; 
they had to do with small "fats" that 
belonged to the dead galley and were 
being lifted by the office. 

It was nearly time that night — 7 
o'clock — when I rolled my sleeves. Not 
a light had been turned on, and as no 
one was present but a man at the stone 
I asked him what w'as the matter: 

"I don't know yet," he replied, "but 
believe the printers ' have struck. They 
have had conferences w'ith the proprie- 
tors, and there was a special- union m:eet- 
ing this afternoon." 

191 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

**This is news to me. I got in from 
the west last night. It's funny some one 
did not have the courtesy to tell me 
something about it. My place was at 
the meeting. Aren't you a member?" 

"Yes." (It was Ejugene Harmon, 
brother of John Harmon, the foreman.) 

"How comes it, then, that you are 
here?" 

"The — the — fact is, I think the boys 
are making a serious fuss about a small 
matter. They have made Manager 
Quimlby very angry. I am not in sym- 
pathy with them." 

"But a straight man has no right to 
set up an opinion against the will of the 
majority." 

"Well, I'm here, you'll notice, and am 
going to stay with it if I have to get 
the paper out alone." 

"Are you the foreman?" 
"My brother is — or was — and I've 
been his assistant." 

I reached for my coat. 

"Say, I'll tell you how it is," he said. 
"I'm in the manager's confidence. If 
the boys have gone out they'll never get 
'back. There are in waiting across the 
river about twienty Canadian typestick- 
ers, and we know of fifty more, east and 
west, to be had within twenty-four hours 
— enough to flood the city. I put John 

112 



A TOURIST'S STRIKE 

wise, but he wouldn't listen. You'd bet- 
ter set out those cases you filled, and can 
keep them." 

''And you don't know anything about 
me — ^whether I'm a printer or a black- 
smith. I'm not on the lookout for a 
proposition of that kind, from a man who 
would sneak his own brother out of a 
job." 

He never seemed to like me after 
that, for whenever I met him on the 
street something caught his attention 
across the way. I might have been less 
personal if he had not looked the under- 
handed little cur that he was. 

At the bottom of the stairs there were 
at least a dozen printers, all with skates 
on and all talking at once. One in- 
sultingly wanted to know if I had "taken 
a situation," and another who knew me 
knocked him down. I learned that by 
a close vote a strike had been declared; 
that the Tribune force was also out, more 
in sympathy than because of any serious 
grievance in that office, and that the 
union had upwards of $2,500 in its treas- 
ury. Two or three of the crowd were 
in fighting trim and shouting, ''We'll 
make 'em come to time if it takes a 
year." 

The remark of Eugene Harmon was 
prophetic. For many years after the 

193 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Free Press composing room was unfair, 
and for aught I know is to this day. 

Next morning I took an early train 
for O^xford, fifty miles up the state, re- 
maining there several days. Oh return- 
ing — would you believe it? — besides the 
Free Press being fully manned by out- 
siders, the T'ribune w'as running full 
blast, with a force made up of strikers 
from both offices. The cases were not 
only all represented, but there were 
fifteen or twenty men standing around 
to be put on ! 

Among those at work was the one 
who insulted me, with a cheek slightly 
contused. 

I took a turn around, and noticed that 
most of the men who had talked war and 
were going to die in the last ditch had 
their noses in the spacebox. M'any of 
those looking on were men with families, 
among the best in the union, who had 
held cases in one office or the other for 
years. One told me he thought the 
grievance had been trivial, and was very 
much opposed to extreme measures ; that 
the vote wlas carried by agitators who 
had been in the city but a short time, 
and strange as it might seem, nearly all 
the big orators were now at work. 

It was me that about that time had 
on a big disgust. 

194 



A TOURIST'S STRIKE 

I was well acquainted with some of 
the old Detroit boys, having worked 
there. One singled me out and asked me 
to go on. Though conditions did not 
look good I was needing money. Going 
to the cases with a handful, the first 
thing attracting my attention was a pla- 
card, hanging from the gaspipe, bearing 
in bold type this legend : 

"Hereafter, any regular of this composing 
room employing a union printer as a substi- 
tute will be peremptorily discharged." 

I hadn't thrown in a line, and didn't. 
Putting the type on the stone I said to 
Mr. Van Buren, the foreman, with whom 
I was well acquainted, "My regular is 
gone and his cases are vacant. I can't 
work under that card over there." 

"Say, on the side, never you mind 
that thing. We had to put up the notice 
to pacify the manager. He was due to 
make some sort of bluiiF; I think within 
a w;eek the cards wiill disappear. I 
haven't given out all the cases," and he 
gave me a significant look. 

"Have those fellows who carried this 
strike renounced the union?" 

"Ostensibly, yes ; but you know how 
that goes. When matters cool down ev- 
erything will be pretty much as before." 

"But did you give them cases?" 

195 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"Yes ; that is, between you and I there 
was a pressure brought to bear." 

"In other words, they precipitated the 
strike as I was given to understand, and 
then crawled in out of the wet?" 

"But, you understand, they won't last 
long;" and he closed an eye. 

"Excuse me. I knew nothing what- 
ever about this trouble, and am yet ig- 
norant of the real facts; but it looks like 
there are a lot of printers here who need 
guardians. They must have meant all 
right, and done what they thought was 
for the best, so I don't want to criticize 
or want one of their jobs. Under the 
circumstances I might stand for that 
card a while, as you say; but when it 
comes to working with those two-edged 
fellows, I don't have to." 

A week later I was in St. Louis, eat- 
ing at Jim Hurley's printers' joint and 
subbing on the Times under that grand 
old man, Phil Coghlan. 

The 'first night after my arrival in St. 
Louis — ^September 4, 1868 — there were 
sixty deaths from cholera in the city. 
The morgue was in St. Charles street, 
opposite Hurley's. To and from it 
throughout the night heavy carts were 
rattling over the rough cobbled pave- 
ment. I did not. know' the cause until 

196 



A TOURIST'S STRIKE 

next morning; but dreamed of being a 
looker-on at the massacre of St. Barthol- 
omew and of tumbrils carrying victims 
to the guillotine. A frost came next 
night, and four days later there was not 
a single new case of the disease. 



197 



Four Years in Gehenna. 



This story relates a series of happen- 
ings that landed me in an ugly slough, 
from which I have never been able to 
fully extricate myself. It would be an 
interloper in a strictly jour printer's jour- 
nal, nevertheless is at home among these 
reminiscences, as they include other 
events occurring while I was in the pub- 
lishing business. 

During 1879 and 1880, I was man- 
ager and editor for a printing company 
at Greenville, Mich. It issued a small 
daily and a country weekly — "organ" — 
and in connection there was a good steam 
job office. In my dual capacity I was 
supposed to supervise everything, keep 
the books and wirite a few columns daily. 

Worn out and ill, early in 1881 I re- 
signed the position and went to Colorado 
to spend a summer in the mountains. 

I carried a letter of introduction to 
the late John Arkins, founder and pro- 
prietor of the Rocky Mbuntain News, 
from an old Mississippi chum and side 
partner of his. It at once gained me spe- 
cial consideration. 

198 



POUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

During a ride around Denver with 
Mr. Arkins I saw much of the city, and 
he asked my opinion of it. I had not 
noticed a single manufactory or other en- 
terprise emiploying a permanent "dinner- 
pail squad," and said I must conclude 
that, while many fine buildings were be- 
ing constructed, under such a condition 
the community was liable to ultimately 
eat itself up. 

"Yes," said he, "but consider — 'Den- 
ver is the outfitting point for Leadville, 
the greatest mining district in the world, 
Ibar none, and also for many minor dis- 
tricts. Its mercantile and machinery 
business is simply marvellous; while just 
outside the city limits are great smelters, 
employing many hundreds of men. I 
make this prediction — within five years 
Denver will have the biggest boom the 
w^est has ever seen. If you have any 
money to invest, go out Broadway and 
buy acreage property, now selling at $200 
an acre. I'll guarantee you can dispose 
of it as city lots within two years. Mean- 
time, go into the mountains and take a 
rest, then come back and I'll give you a 
job at clipping state news." 

Had I followed this advice I could now 
be clipping coupons. 

199 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

To illustrate, what followed in the 
boom line, this instance will suffice. A 
party owned a property on Fifteenth 
street that he tried in vain to sell for 
$2,500. Then he got mad, and swore 
that while he lived money would not buy 
it. He was "kidding," for within five 
years he disposed of it for $50,000 in 
cash. 

Now listen to what was in store for 
poor miserable me : 

I went to the mining camp of Pitkin, 
in the Gunnison country of Colorado. 
Pitkin is situated on Quartz creek, on 
the western slope of the Rocky moun- 
tains, nine miles below Alpine pass, at 
9,300 feet above sea level. 

I paid for being hauled over the sum- 
mit — altitude 11,500 feet — in a lumber 
wagon alleged to have been a stage ; but 
as the road had not been improved and 
was paved with boulders large as wagon 
wheels, was easily induced with the other 
passengers to walk most of the way. 

At the apex of the summit we stopped 
to drink from a rivulet, the pure ice.-cold 
water of which divided at our feet — d. 
part meandering down the eastern slope 
to the Arkansas river and on to the At- 
lantic ocean, the rest flowing westward 
toward the Pacific. On the summit a 

200 



POUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

sublime stillness reigned. It would have 
been supreme but for the roar of the 
stage, alleged as aforesaid, jumping from 
one boulder to another. 

Among the passengers was old Hank 
Williams, once quite noted as an Indian 
scout at Fort Bridger, at this time a 
popular Pitkin hotel keeper, homing from 
a business trip. Hank was of under 
stature, but having growtn fleshy in the 
inn business tipped the scales at 225 
pounds. I shall always be grateful he 
was not seven feet high. 

Those lofty altitudes get a fat man's 
breath. After walking awhile Hank fell 
among the rocks, gasping, and seemed 
about to ascend instead of descend. Viol- 
unteering assistance with another light 
weig'ht like myself, wie put him on his 
pins, and humping ourselves under his 
shoulders forged ahead occasionally, 
rvvhile the rest of the tenderfeet went on. 
It was a snail's journey of nearly a mile 
before Hank quit rolling his eyes and 
could breathe with his mouth closed. 
(This sketch will refer to him again.) 

Thus I crossed the great Alpine pass 
into the Gunnison. This pass — after- 
wards traversed by the South Park rail- 
road, is about twenty miles west of the 
celebrated Marshall pass, which was the 

201 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

route of the Denver and Rio Grande rail- 
road for years before its broad guage line 
via Leadville w^as built. 

The Alpine greatly surpasses Mar- 
shall pass for scenic beauty — in fact there 
are few elevations along the Rockies 
where the view is more magnificient as 
one catches his first glimjpse of the west- 
ern valley far beneath. The South Park 
train, emerging from a tunnel 1,800 feet 
in length, directly passes over a dizzy 
'Construction hundreds of feet high, then 
creeps down a steep grade blasted into 
the granite mountain side, twisting 
around sharp curves that often swing the 
engine into view from the coach win- 
dows. Along the bottom of the great 
canyon flows Quartz creek, a roaring cat- 
aract, but looking from the summit like a 
tiny ribbon of silver, and in view for 
many miles. To the right is M)t. Fair- 
view, elevation 13,500 feet, while scat- 
tered in the distance, right and left, are 
scores of lesser peaks, some far to the 
southwest in old Mexico. Long before, 
in the Sierras, I had had all hankering 
for mountain air and scenery bumped out 
of me ; but I shall never forget the awe 
with which for the first time I drank in 
the sublimity of this Alpine view. 

202 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

At Pitkin, in the evening of the very 
day of my arrival, I witnessed a moving 
display that was grand beyond descrip- 
tion, fearful as it was grand and calcu- 
lated to dull recollection of the nature 
wonders just passed. 

Along the creek on both sides are 
ridges 1,000 to 2,500 feet in height. The 
fact that in winter the sun rises at 10 
o'clock and sets at 2 best tells how Pit- 
kin is situated, *'in a deep vale shut from 
the rude world by Alpine hills." 

The ridges in those days were cov- 
ered with a dense growth of fir, the foli- 
age of which burns like fat pine. By the 
creek some careless camper had failed to 
smother the fire over which he cooked 
his evening meal. Fanned by a stiflf 
breeze, it spread to underbrush, then to 
the fir trees, and within an hour thou- 
sands of acres of forest were in flames 
with tongues leaping upwards hundreds 
of feet, and roaring like a Niagara. 
Viewed from the creek's level it seemed 
more awful than the orthodox hell the 
parsons used to tell about. 

It was a sight to hold a spectator 
transfixed, though few of the citizens 
were looking on open-mouthed. They 
gathered en masse as near the creek as 
heat would permit, to fight fire should 

203 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the flames leap across. However, besides 
the burning of a couple of shacks on the 
east side, no damage to the camp re- 
sulted. 

The wind dying down, in a couple 
of hours the fire had spent its force and 
the eastern ridge side, bereft of its em- 
erald beauty, was a blackened, smoulder- 
ing ruin. 

I found that Mr. Nathaniel Slaght 
and family of Greenville had preceded me 
to Pitkin on a few weeks visit. Mr. 
Slaght AVas president of the Miichigan 
Mining and Milling company of Pitkin, 
and owned large mining interests. By 
the way, he was also president of the 
Greenville Printing company. In the 
piney lumber woods of Michigan he had 
made more money than he needed, and 
maybe thought there was no better way 
to get rid of the surplus than by dabbling 
in mines and running a jim crow print 
shop. Anyway, with that object in view 
it was a great combination, for he came 
to want. 

There were two ends to Pitkin — ''up 
town" and "down town" — with a dead 
line between. The lower end was pretty 
much run by a fraternity of jealous min- 
ers, most of them meaning well but dom- 
inated by designing fanatics eaten by the 

204 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

impression that they were always heing 
imposed upon or slighted by sharpers on 
the other side of the dead line. Up town 
a coterie of bright, influential business 
men were prominent in local affairs, and 
usually made matters pertaining to town 
organization come their way. 

Up-town, however, were a number of 
disagreeable characters that I soon 
learned to fight shy of. One was Frank 
Sheafor, owner of the camp paper — the 
Independent. He was a bad actor. Bred 
in Kansas, after reading many yellow 
novels he yearned to go to the far west 
and pose as a sure-enough *'bad man." 
He was of the proper stuff ; for like most 
characters of that class, when put to the 
test he proved himself a sneaking coward 
— of which his beady black eyes set too 
near together gave warning. I learned 
that when he came to the camp his black 
ihair flowed down his back, Buffalo Bill 
style, from under a wide sombrero, and 
from his hip pocket protruded a formid- 
a:ble gun; and a long, turned-up mous- 
tache completed his ferocious aspect. 

Tio get this story on its feet I must 
here in'ject some stuff that may prove 
wearisome. 

The printing office was located up- 
town, and the editor posed as an up- 

205 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

town man, though secretly standing in 
wiith the lowter-town gang. As the paper 
was habitually booming a lot of worth- 
less mining claims — no doubt for pay — 
the better element wanted to be rid of 
Sheafor. Through the Greenville push 
my reputation as a newspaper man had 
become known, and so it presently came 
about that I was being urged to buy him 
out. Having a big load of disgust on for 
the business, and little mbney, I stead- 
fastly declined until an influence was 
brought to bear that made me fall over 
myself on the other tack. 

It was this way: The main cause of 
jealousy at this time was a fight for the 
railroad depot location. Down-town was 
ideal level ground for the yard — the best 
in camp. The up-town influence, how- 
ever, had secretly prevailed on the South 
Park company to accept a large donated 
site. It was within a hundred yards of 
the Independent office. Also, a company 
had been quietly formed and made plans 
and specifications for the erection of a 
large hotel on a corner lot next to the 
printing office, and would need the 
ground on which it stood. 

Here was a chance for me to gather 
in a few thousand sheckels that summer, 
without much of an effort. Then Mr. 

206 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

Slaght came to me and said: "I would 
like to have you buy out that man Shea- 
for, for my good as well as your own. 
We are going to make a lot of money 
here, and you ought to be in on it. As- 
suming that after your late troubles (my 
home had been desolated by death) you 
may be short of funds, I will draw a 
check in your favor for $3,000. As a 
matter of business you may give me a 
note and trust deed; but if things don't 
come your way I will tear up the note." 
I fell. 

Sheafor came off for a round price. 
Then I put in a new jobber, the freight 
on which was more than its cost, a paper 
cutter, job type, etc., and started in about 
$5,000 in debt. 

Sheafor agreed to keep out of the 
business for two years; but no sooner 
was the deal closed than he went to Den- 
ver, bought a new outfit, and using a 
couple of his near-eyed cronies as al- 
leged publishers, started a new paper 
with himself as editor and manager. I 
then learned that in law he could not 
sell his right to "work and earn a liveli- 
hood." 

The first business stroke of the "ed- 
itor and manager" was to circulate among 
the lower-town people and whisper that 

207 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

he had sold the Independent to the "up- 
town gang" — ^that I was a mere tool. So 
I got orders from many business men 
to cut their advertising space in half, as 
they were going to patronize both pa- 
pers; also, most of the down-town sub- 
scribers switched. 

At this time a great extension race 
w^as on between the South Park and Rio 
Grande railroads, from the continental di- 
vide to Gunnison City (county seat) , dis- 
tance thirty-five miles. Gunnison was 
then a booming city, claiming 8,000 to 
10,000 population. 

The lead was highly important, on 
account of pick of right-of-way through 
narrow places in the valley. The South 
Park was safely ahead, until it began to 
run its 1,800-foot tunnel. Then it went 
to sleep. The Rio Grande shot ahead, 
and soon it became known that the South 
Park had suspended work until the fol- 
lowing year. Pitkin as I have already 
stated was on the South Park route. 

It was about July 1, 1882, that the 
first engine rolled into the camp. Mean- 
while, one-half of the population had be- 
come discouraged and pulled out. The 
claims had proved disappointing. A vast 
upheaval in the remote past had faulted 
the mineral veins. This being demon- 

208 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

strated, Pitkin was no longer talked 
about as "a poor man's camp." Many- 
veins were rich, Ibut uniformly disap- 
peared at fifty to seventy-five feet depth, 
so capital was necessary to rediscover 
them. 

I am getting a little ahead of one of 
the main features of this over-true story 
— ^^illustrating as it does, more than any 
other circumstance that ever came un- 
der my observation, the extreme ups and 
downs whic'h frequently occur in the pur- 
suit of mining as a business, and the 
childish breaks made by people who in- 
vest in prospects and stocks on the say- 
so of designing sharks, without knowing 
the difference between pay rock and a 
grindstone. It is necessary to briefly 
give these details as they had much to 
do with the unmaking of yours truly. 

The Mfic'higan company, consisting of 
Mr. Slaght and some of his Canadian 
relatives and friends, owned the Silver 
Islet and other claims of lesser import- 
ance. About 1,200 feet of development 
work had been done on the great low- 
grade vein of the Silver Islet, as a result 
of which it had become quite famous as 
a prospective producer of great wealth. 

A California syndicate sent an,; expert 
to examine the property with the view 

209 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

of purchasing it. He, was permitted to 
spend several days in fhe tunnels and 
drifts, and ship out a dozen sacks of ore 
samples for testing. 

Mr. Slaght's special business in the 
mountains at this time was to meet rep- 
resentatives of the syndicate and arrange 
a deal. A formal offer had been made by 
letter of $650,000 for the property, and 
Mr. Slaght very sensibly wanted to sell. 
But he had also received a fool letter 
from the Canadian contingent, that 
proved ruinous to them all. They had 
carefully and prayerfully considered the 
offer, and decided it was not enough. 
Swelled up by grossly exaggerated re- 
ports and comments in the Independent, 
also reports made by the local manager, 
they had become seized of the idea that 
the Silver Islet was worth at least a 
million, and objected to letting it go for 
less. 

As I entered the manager's office one 
morning, Mr. Slaght sat there with the 
Canadian letter in his hand and laughing. 

"I^m afraid we're making a mistake," 
he said, "but we'll hold it for their price ; 
or work it ourselves. Not one of those 
people knowis what the tenth part of a 
million means." 

210 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

He owned three-fourths of the stock, 
and could have closed the deal, making 
the mistake of his life in deferring to their 
wishes. The sale or success of the Silver 
Islet wiould have saved kind, Whole- 
hearted Mr. Slaght from ultimate bank- 
ruptcy, and me, indirectly, from the hell 
that followed. Within five years the 
Silver Islet, together with a small mill 
that had been built in connection, actu- 
ally sold at sheriff's sale for $7,500, and 
passed out of the hands of the company. 
The property was managed by an old 
Baptist parson who, after forty years of 
sky piloting and living on the collection 
game, was sent by the prayerful Can- 
adians to show Pitkin how to exploit and 
run a mine. His plan was niggardly 
economy — which soon got the whole 
camp down on him and the company, 
and he was "back capped" at every turn. 
With a forty-ton mill properly 
handled the company could have soon 
been paying dividends; but the parson, 
after monkeying around a year to save 
a few dollars, started up a second-hand 
plant with a capacity that never reached 
more than ten tons a day. It cost more 
than a new one of proper size ought to, 
and more to run it. 

211 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Mr. Slaght was at length obliged to 
shut pan on his private funds, following 
which the property closed down, the par- 
son went home, and everything that 
didn't flatten out caved in. 

Before I had been in Pitkin a month 
a sensational incident occurred — a. re- 
minder of the sort of justice meted out 
in the California hills and along the far- 
western frontiers in the early days. I am 
inclined to believe it was the best way 
that could have been devised in the wild 
and woolly times to hold crime in check, 
though in many cases it was administered 
by blood-stained criminals, miore deserv- 
ing of violence than their victims, and 
great injustice was done. 

In the upper section of Pitkin, out- 
side of the towin limits, was a large dance 
hail, infested by painted fairies and 
toughs, and thronged nightly by miners 
and more or less respectable citizens tak- 
ing in the "sights." A murder had been 
committed there, and fights, robberies 
and holdups were of frequent occurrence. 

The down-town element, albeit having 
pretty tough joints of their own — may be 
to ward off attention from their own 
short-comiings, anyway to twist the 
noses of upper-town moralists^ — one night 
made a raid on the den. 

212 



POUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

A mob of about one hundred, headed 
by my esteemed contemporary with a 
gun in each hand shooting in the air, 
marched up the main street and a gath- 
ering crowd followed. 

In the exercises ensuing the dance 
hall proprietor was shot, and many heads 
were broken and noses flattened. A can 
of coal oil was upset in the building and 
it went up in smoke. 

This episode reminded me of the early 
days' vigilance committee of San Fran- 
cisco, partly composed as it was of des- 
perate characters bent on perforating the 
skins of other desperadoes to save their 
own. The biggest cowards were the 
most blatent leaders until there was 
something doing. Then, like my es- 
teemed contemporary, they sneaked to 
the rear where they could look on with 
safety. 

Among the crowd following up the 
Pitkin 'Vigilantes" was my foreman, 
James Lamoreaux — one of the assets 
turned out to me with the office. I had 
been warned to keep an eye on Jim — 
that he was secretly standing in with 
Sheafor, and would do me dirt. My good 
angel was guessing. 

Overhearing a couple of Sheafor's 
near-eyed pals talking about a plan to 

213 



HANDSET REMINTSCENCES 

squelch the "up-town organ" and its ed- 
itor when the mob came back, Jim 
promptly took measures to forestall any- 
thing of that kind. Next morning the 
first thing that attracted my attention 
was a stack of rifles in one corner of 
the office. Jim had called together a lot 
of up-town boys, who during the night 
laid concealed within gunshot. As I 
learned afterwards, when half a dozen 
leaders of the dance-hall raid on their 
way back came to a halt near the office, 
and were busily whispering, Jim walked 
up to them and said: 

"Will you fellows take the advice of a 
friend?" 

"What is it, Jim?" 

"Don't undertake to do up the Inde- 
pendent." 

"What do you mean?" 

"No use of being mysterious — it's all 
all over camp." 

"Well, what of it?" 

"I give you credit for better sense 
than to make such a d — d fool break ; but 
if you do, you'll stir up something you 
ain't looking for. Keep an eye on Nob 
hill." 

(This hill was the "tony" part of 
camp, and overlooked my office.) 

The advice was heeded. 

214 



FOUR YKARS IN GEHENNA 

Jim Lameroux was a character. Me- 
dium-sized, gaunt, quick as a flash, a 
bundle of muscle and a stayer, he was a 
born fighter any style — fisticuffs being 
his strong suit though he w,as known to 
always carry a gun. He seldom quarrel- 
ed when not in liquor — then with most 
any tough that showed up. He invari- 
ably downed his man, would pretty near 
cry if he did not give him a pair of black 
eyes. When the melee was over, he 
would ask if there was anybody looking 
on who was aching for the same. N'early 
all his knuckles were enlarged or skewed, 
in token that he struck from the 
shoulder. 

Jim was a bum printer, but his knowl- 
edge of mining and minerals was valu- 
able to me. Within a week after I 
"moved in" he was my solid friend; and 
though he came near licking the "old 
man*' once, as it proved I never had a 
truer friend. 

Nlext morning after the dance-house 
raid I dropped into A. M'. Stevenson's 
law office. "Stevy," as he was familiar- 
ly called, was a nervy young fellow — es- 
pecially in attempting to practice law at 
that time with his scant knowledge of 
it. 

215 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

As I entered he was loading a revol- 
ver. A caller asked: 

''What's that for, Stevy?" 

"Vm going to kill Frank Sheafor." 

"You don't mean it." 

"Watch me. He has threatened to 
do me uip, I hear, and last night after 
the fire sneaked up the trail with a gun 
in his hand, nearly scaring my wife into 
a fit. There were half-a-dozen boys in 
the brush near by, guarding the printing 
office, and it was lucky for him that he 
turned and sneaked back. I don't be- 
lieve any court would hold me for rid- 
ding the world of that thing. Anyway, 
I'm going to chance it." 

Without another word Stevy walked 
down the street, and was within twenty 
rods of the new office when Sheafor came 
out and climbed into the Gunnison stage, 
on his way to Denver. (There had been 
talk of arrest and trouble for the ring- 
leaders of the raid.) On his return a 
week later the ruffle was out of Stevy's 
feathers, and talk of prosecution had 
quieted down. 

The county election of 1882 afforded 
Pitkin a little relief from the apathy and 
gloom that was closing in on it, follow- 
ing a steady decrease in population and 
business. Some money was put in cir- 

216 



FOUK YEARS IN GEHENNA 

culation by political committees and can- 
didates. For the purposes of, my story, I 
will only refer to the contest for county 
judge. 

Ed. C. Colborn, the Republican nom- 
inee, was elected. He was a rather dud- 
ish, Johnny-come-lately looking chap 
about shoulder-high to an average man, 
but knew enough to be hale fellow well 
met with the pick and shovel contingent. 
While he could make a pointed speech, 
he had a voice thin as a tape line, that 
shot past the audience and out through 
the transom without attracting miuch at- 
tention. 

For his opponent he had D. T. Sapp 
of Pitkin, a former Greenville man and 
Stevenson's law partner. He wias an ex- 
cellent attorney, as Colborn afterwards 
proved himself to be, 

Mr. Slaght dropped into my office one 
day and said: 

"We must do all we can to elect our 
old friend and 'towney,' Mr. Sapp." 

"Yes ; but you know, I can do no more 
than vote for him," I replied. "He's on 
the wrong ticket. The paper is straight 
as a string in this election." 

"Ah, shucks! In this God-forsaken 
country, what do you care? Don't go 
'back on your best friends for the sake 

217 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

of politics. For special and legitimate 
reasons I want Sapp elected. If you 
will help him all you can with the paper 
I'll cancel $500 of your indebtedness to 
me." 

In gratitude for this generosity and 
kindness, I wrote an editorial and 
quietly submitted it to Sapp for his ap- 
proval. It said many things in his favor, 
but underneath was distinctly a vein of 
equivocation, much more apparent, as it 
proved, than was intended. He was a 
comparative stranger in the county. The 
article described him as a man of energy 
and action in the right direction, but 
unfortunately of manner so reserved and 
peculiar as to convey the impression that 
he estimated himself rather above the 
common run of people — which was 
strictly true. 

This comment made him wince but 
he said he felt that it was deserved and 
fair; that the matter as a whole was ex- 
cellent, and thanked me. Later in the 
campaign he said: 

"Mir. Graham, I'm sorry that d — d 
stufif was printed. Wherever throughout 
the county I have mingled with crowds 
of miners and working men I have dis- 
tinctly felt it. Its influence crept over 
me like a chill." 

218 



FOUR YEAHS IN GEHENNA 

If there is any person an intelligent 
miner cannot abide it is a man in a boiled 
shirt who looks contemptuously at a fel- 
low mortal whose calling compels him to 
take his life in his hands and go down 
into the earth to toil. Miost miners are 
well read, many educated. They have 
reason to know that their practical 
knowledge of minerals and rocks often 
proves more valuable than the theories 
and opinions of book-learned geologists. 

My unfortunate comments may have 
turned from my old friend a hundred 
votes. Colborn's majority was forty- 
nine, and he was the only Republican 
candidate elected. 

A few months ago, on one of Salt 
Lake's streets. Judge Colborn was stand- 
ing at the curb, talking to a young gentle- 
man. As I approached them he said : 

"My son, I want you to know my old 
friend, J. B. Graham. Thirty-years ago 
he wrote an editorial that elected me 
judge of Gunnison county." 

That meeting gave me a jolt, such a 
reminder it was of the flight of time. I 
had never seen young Colborn, now a 
prosperous business man, born five years 
after the defeat of Sapp. 

In the spring of 1883 Pitkin had 
dwindled to less than half its size of two 

219 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

years before, and disgusted others were 
pulling out almost daily. It had little 
ore to ship, and there were few pay rolls. 
The freighters had disappeared, and 
nearly every dollar in circulation sooner 
or later found its way to the railroad 
freight hopper, never* to come back. Tihe 
only resources were funds sent in for 
mining assessment labor and the occa- 
sional sale of a mineral prospect to some 
outsider. 

Speaking of newspaper mining re- 
ports, which in camp booming times have 
perhaps more than any other influence 
been the cause of wealthy men losing 
their heads and poor people being parted 
from their hard-earned money, I have 
had many compliments paid me for the 
conservativeness with which my mining 
news was prepared. Here is a case in 
point : 

'Early in 1883' a company composed of 
successful Black Hawk (Gilpin county, 
Colo.) miners sent an expert to examine 
a Pitkin claim that was located the first 
of the year, and which had been regu- 
larly mentioned in the papers as making 
a great showing and improving as depth 
was gained. I took pains to visit the 
ground often, wading in snow shoulder 
deep rather than trusting to current 

220 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

rumjors. It belonged to the down-town 
push, and Sheafor of course was booming 
it with black type. 

The Black Hawk company found ev- 
erything better than the Independent had 
represented, closed a deal, and sunk a 
shaft to 100 feet depth. Then they made 
the fatal mistake of shipping in a mill — 
trusting to chances as to what was un- 
derneath. As it proved, not ten feet be- 
low the 100-level the shaft went into 
broken and barren rock. 

Oine day along in the summer the 
manager came to my office. Said he: 
**We have abandoned our property here 
and are starting today to move out the 
mill. I have taken pains to call on you 
to say that while we wfere first attracted 
here 'by your reports, and have sunk 
thousands of dollars, we are far from 
blaming you. All your statements were 
correct. We were over-enthusiastic, and 
made the fool mistake of putting a mill 
on undeveloped ground. Wiseacres now 
say it is a gash vein. I contend not. 
There is a, big fault, and I believe that by 
drifting north and east we might recover 
a true fissure; but that would soon run 
us out of our ground. I am disgusted, 
and will take no further chances." 

221 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

In after years his theory as to the 
faulting proved correct. 

I speak of the failure of this enter- 
prise particularly as it was typical of 
what happened to others, lured by some 
of the best of the Pitkin surface show- 
ings of that day. 

The locating of the Black Hawk 
property is worth telling, as it came very 
near; resulting in a tragedy. It was orig- 
inally staked as the Black Prince loca- 
tion, and sold to eastern parties. Failure 
of so many claims in the district to make 
good caused the owiners to be neglectful, 
and they having overlooked the assess- 
ment work in 1882, on the 1st of Janu- 
ary, 1883, according to law the Black 
Prince was "jumpable." 

Many miners knew of the fact, and 
as the ground was very promising, it 
was not strange that two parties of half- 
a-dozen each secretly planned to be on 
the location at exactly low 12 New Year's 
eve and take possession. 

They approached the spot noiselessly, 
by trails on opposite sides of the hill, and 
hid in adjacent brush. On "the prick of 
12" the two parties 'jumped into the open 
simultaneously. Several rifles glistened 
in the bright moonlight and that blood 

222 



FOUR TEARS IN GEHENNA 

did not flow was only due. to the leaders 
recognizing each other. 

"Hello, Bill, what are you geezers a 
doin' here, this time o'night?" 

"Since you have mentioned the sub- 
ject, Sluffky, we'd like to know what the 
h — 11 you geezers are here fer." 

"Well, I reckon since we're all good 
friends there ain't no use of us bein' mys- 
terious. Let's have a talk." 

After some discussion they con- 
cluded to divide the Black Prince, each 
party taking half a claim. One-half of 
the claim was then named the "Mid- 
night," the other the "MIoonlight," and it 
was the Midnight and Moonlight that 
three months later caught the Black 
Hawk crowd. 

The spring of 1884 had the gloomist, 
most hopeless outlook of all seasons in 
my experience. Not only was it dark for 
myself — ^about everyone remaining in Pit- 
kin had the blues. But two or three busi- 
ness men held their own — many had 
gone broke. The winter had been un- 
usually cold and stormy, accentuating the 
general deadness. Not more than 500 
people were left, and there was no work. 
Drummers had learned to give the sta- 

223 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

tion the go-by, and only now and then a 
lone passenger stepped from a train. 

Dreadful snowslides were frequent; 
many trails were too dangerous to be 
risked. One slide a short distance above 
camp swept away a South Park section 
house, killing thirteen of its seventeen oc- 
'cupants. Stories of the dreadful suffer- 
ing of a rescue party that had to break 
trail in several feet of snow, while the 
mercury marked 40 degrees below, were 
as nothing compared with a sight of the 
twelve frozen bodies they brought back 
and laid side by side on the counter of a 
vacant store. Of the rescued two were 
women, unharmed — one, the mother of 
seven sons, all section men, all killed by 
the slide. 

When April came, snow lay on the 
main street to the depth of seven feet on 
the level, and there was not the track of 
a team nor had there been all winter. 
Here and there were beaten trails from 
one sidewalk across to the other. They 
were breast high, so that a person pass- 
ing on the opposite walk could barely be 
seen, as through a trench. 

Oiccasionally there was something do- 
ing socially, in the way of card parties 
and dances, and even a wedding now and 
then. A masquerade ball was given for 

224 



FOUR' YEARS IN GEHENNA 

the one parson in camp, who had mighty 
lean picking. Probably the best ad it 
got was this squib, appearing in the Inde- 
pendent : 

"Anent the coming masquerade, here is 
a hint for our esteemed contemporary, sug- 
gested by his beady, reptilian lamps. All 
he has to do to win first prize is to put on 
a hood and go in as a cobra." 

The item caused some talk, but did not 
bring the dose of lead I was yearning for 
as a cure for depressed spirits." 

With almost daily storms, and on a 
diet principally of sowbelly and beans 
that had prevailed for several hundred 
meals, 1 failed to get a glimpse of any- 
thing cheerful in the environments. Be- 
sides, the altitude had affected me so I 
could not sleep. It was just awful. 

I turned the Independent over to a 
printer, and in a state of nervous pros- 
tration, with a railroad pass and the price 
of a week's feed, went to Denver for a 
month's layoff. 

One of the first men I met there was 
former Senator H. A. W. Tabor, famous 
in the history of the early days of Lead- 
ville. He invited me to his office and 
asked : 

225 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"Just in from Pitkin?'* 

"Yes/' 

"Reports say the Gunnison country is 
fearfully dead — nothing but sagebrush 
•and jackrabbits there. What do the 
people live on?" 

"Beans and hardtack are pretty good." 

"Any mining at all?" 

"About the only dirt thrown is when 
we dig a grave." 

"Plenty of snow?" 

"Yesterday morning it laid a foot high- 
er than my windows." 

"How long will you stay with us?" 

"A month, if the hotel man don't chase 
me out." 

"Why don't you get out of Pitkin and 
go to Aspen, or some other live camp? 
A man of your ability — I say it without 
flattery — ^with half a chance ought to 
do well in the newspaper business." 

"I'm stuck — staying with it to protect 
the interests of others, who helped me," 
I replied. "Every man over there be- 
lieves the district has a big boom coming. 
If I should show the white feather now 
and a strike is made, I could never look 
my friends in the face again." 

Saying I would call again, I arose to 
go. The senator was at the table writ- 
ing but came and handed me an envelope, 

226 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

saying he hoped the contents might do 
me a good turn and added : 

"I am not in politics now, but would 
be an ingrate to forget the the wallop- 
ing the Independent gave our Arapahoe 
(Denver) delegation last fall for the stab 
in the back it gave me. And I have ad- 
mired the Pitkin mining news reprinted 
in the dailies from your columns. When- 
ever there was a little strike made you 
did not slop over and talk about a second 
Leadville. Several outfits tried to draw 
me into Pitkin claims that haven't 
panned out, and the fact of their 'marvel- 
lous discoveries' not being so mentioned 
by the Independent, did not help them. 
The 'Tabor' group of claims, named for 
me if you please, did not catch me for 
the price of a stack of chips." 

Then I related my experience with a 
party who had tried to work him — ^how 
one of them came to my office, and re- 
marked with an almond-eyed leer they 
had noticed I wasn't printing much 
about their great strike, which was, of 
course, my privilege, but added: 

"I warn you now — if you haven't any- 
thing good to say for us, it will be just 
as prudent not to say anything." 

At my hotel, on opening the envelope, 
I found it contained a fat check and a 

227 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

month's pass to the Tabor grand opera 
house. 

Those who remember back thirty-five 
years may recall the lurid career of Mr. 
Tabor, that gave him national notoriety 
— ^how he discovered the Little Pittsburg 
mine at Leadville and became a million- 
aire in a day; how he was appointed a 
United States senator to fill a thirty-day 
vacancy, and while at Washington mar- 
ried a noted beauty from Leadville — the 
ceremony being attended by a blare of 
trumpets and followed by a princely 
feast at which cabinet officers and sena- 
tors were guests. But much that was 
said at the time and afterwards uncom- 
plimentary to M'r. Tabor was mere news- 
paper gossip. He was a long way from 
being all bad. More than any other man 
he aided in the early upbuilding of Den- 
ver, erecting several fine business blocks, 
and aided every worthy project for the 
city's advancement. He was a good 
(business man, honest and square in poli- 
tics. His besetting sin was political am- 
bition, which unprincipled schemers 
took advantage of to rob him right and 
left, and he died leaving little for his 
heirs to quarrel over. His wife, whom 
the world said married him for his 

228 



FOUB YEARS IN GEHENNA 

wealth, stayed wdth him to the end — in 
adversity his truest friend. 

When the campaign of 1884 was on, 
there was at least something doing in 
Pitkin politically. Cleveland had been 
nominated against Blaine, a lively state 
contest was impending that meant the 
tapping of a barrel of money, and in Gun- 
nison, county the Democratic court house 
ring, as the then county officers were 
called, were scheming and working re- 
gardless of expense to succeed them- 
selves. As it proved, they had to. 

In the county were eleven newspapers 
— nine alleged to have been Republican 
and two Democratic. One of the first 
things the ring did was to change this 
lineup, so that when the papers got down 
to work, behold, nine were Democratic 
and two Republican. The Gunnison 
Daily Press and the Independent were 
true to their colors. Sheafor switched 
of course and got his share of the pie. 

If the opposition had got down to ac- 
tive work early, there might have been 
a different result than what happened. 
In the last week of the fight it was 
shown by sworn statements that where- 
as at the end of four years in office from 
the organization of the county, the Re- 

229 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

publicans had left a debt of $77,500, the 
Democrats in two and one-half years in- 
creased the indebtedness to nearly $500,- 
000, during which a tax of 26 mills was 
levied. Mfuch of the debt thus increased 
was over legal limit. The county was 
flooded with worthless warrants — said by 
the ''ins" to have been mostly issued on 
account of road building. 

In the face of these facts the ring ticket' 
was elected. How the trick was turned, 
the methods by which Pitkin was chang- 
ed from a nominal Republican majority 
to fifty for the the ring will illustrate. 
It may also give a pointer to future 
combinations of patriots wherever, w!ho 
have either to win out or go to the pen. 

Though all the saloons had been 
bought up, on the day before election 
several barrels of villainous free whisky 
were rolled into camp, and 500 $2 bills 
were placed on tap at the local bank. 
During election day, on every trail to 
camp, were placed ''workers" with flasks 
and "rolls," and as the miners came down 
to vote each was handed a jolt and a 
little spending money. When the polls 
closed the whole camp was so drunk 
there was only here and there a man who 
could swear how he voted. 

"And then it snowed." 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

My last hope was dissolved and be- 
came thin air by the election result — 
otherwise a political handout now and 
then might have tided me over. With 
hardly the price of white paper in sight 
it was impossible to longer float the In- 
dependent. So a couple of days after the 
polls closed, without a farewell word 
to m;y subscribers^ — ^most of whom were 
owing me — 1 packed my grip, and leav- 
ing the office exactly as it was when 
the last paper was run off, turned the key 
over to Mr. Slaght's agent and board- 
ed a train, never again to see Pitkin — 
I hope. The office building, for which 
in 1881 I paid $1,200, could possibly have 
been sold in 1884 for $75. My total as- 
sets were a railroad pass and $14 in cash. 
Liabilities nearly $9,000. 

When my esteemed contemporary 
started his new sheet, he boasted among 
his cronies that he would "run the tend- 
erfoot over the divide within ninety 
days." As things turned out, I now de- 
voutly wiish he had. It was the irony of 
fate that beckoned me to Pitkin, then fet- 
tered me. Sheafor hit the trail when he 
had eaten his election money. Just fancy 
his calling me a tenderfoot, when I 
had roughed it on the Comstock twenty 
years before! 

231 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

At Denver my first work was digging 
from the space 'box $200, with which to 
discharge an overdue note to the Ameri- 
can Type foundry. Shortly after the 
payment John Creswell, their agent, 
came to me and said he had told the 
company of the circumstances under 
which the note had been paid, and in 
return was authorized to say that when- 
ever I wanted a new plant I could have 
it on my own time and without interest. 

About ten days after I crawled out of 
^'Gehenna," a most kind letter came from 
Mr. Slaght: "Don't lose your grip," he 
said. ''Keep a stiff upper lip. Browse 
around until you are rested up. Don't 
go back to the mountains. Find some 
growing town in the valley that needs a 
paper and I'll start you in it with a new 
outfit — for a daily if you want it. You 
will come out on top." 

That letter was an outpouring of sym- 
pathy, good will and good fellowship, 
straight from the heart of one of God's 
noblemen. At that very time Mr. Slaght 
was at his wit's end to stave off his own 
importunate creditors. 

I had to reply that, while deeply grate- 
ful for his disinterested kindness, I was 
disgusted with trying to get ahead in the 
publishing business and would go back 

232 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

to my old trade, probably not to leave 
it again. 

± ± 

Between Pitkin's gobs of gloom were 
many streaks of sunshine. 

There were weeks and months togeth- 
er of cloudless skies. The pure moun- 
tain air, charged with health-giving 
ozone, was exhiliarating ; the grand 
scenery was uplifting — if one could only 
live on it. With gun and hook and line, 
the sportsman could load his table with 
game and "speckled 'beauties." 

The hills seemed full of mineral, for 
there was rich float everywhere; and 
wherever two or three wiere gathered to- 
gether discussing the outlook it was rare- 
ly they dispersed without expressing re- 
newed hope that the future had great 
things in store. Then, more than other 
communities, all mining camps are fa- 
vored "v^ith a devil-may-care, happy-go- 
lucky class, who see the bright side of 
everything, whose cheeriness and fun 
brace up the faint-hearted, and tend to 
banish forebodings and borrowed 
troubles. 

I recall many side incidents, funny and 
otherwise, that happened while I was 
running the Independent. 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Mjost people never tire of listening to 
the strange antics of mountain rats. I 
have wondered at the wherefore of their 
cussedness, in the quaint huts of the an- 
cient cliff dwellers and in mining tun- 
nels a thousand feet underground. They 
cannot steal the hole a miner has drilled 
for a shot, but content themselves with 
filling it with their droppings while he 
is off shift. 

George Barker, hardware merchant, 
was easily the dude of the camp, but 
rated a good fellow. Included in his 
well-kept togs was a pair of fancy danc- 
ing pumps, that he took great pride in 
wearing at all the public hops. 

One night when there was to be a big 
event George rigged himself up in gor- 
geous arrays — of course hoping to "witch 
sweet ladies" with his swell slippers. 
Reaching under the bed for them, he was 
amazed to find one was filled with oats. 
His sleeping room, at the back of the 
store, was kept locked and the only way 
to account for the difilement was to as- 
sume that some one had used a pass key. 
With blood in his eye he accused the 
clerk of having become too d — ' — d fam- 
iliar in entering his private room and 
playing this dirty trick. An old miner 
who sat by the fire warming his shins, 

234 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

let George blow off a while, and then 
suggested "rats," which explained the 
mystery. They did a clean job, dropping 
not a kernel or a speck of dust on the 
floor or in the other shoe. 

The Independent in its next issue un- 
dertook to give a cheerful account of the 
incident, stating the grain was em^ptied 
into a four-quart measure and filled it 
level full. The item did not seem so 
funny to me when George, who prided 
himself on his small feet, ordered out his 
ad. ; and it was six months before he 
came back. 

Late one fall a couple of prospectors 
went up one of the trails to do some as- 
sessment Work, taking a months' grub 
and supplies. Included was a box of 
stearine candles, necessary in under- 
ground work, which were duly stored un- 
der the bed. On going to the box one 
day it was found that every candle had 
disappeared. This was a serious matter, 
for not a lick of work could be done with- 
out, and lack of them meant a long tedi- 
ous trip through deep snow for a new 
supply. 

Near by wias the cabin of a young fel- 
low also doing assessment work — the only 
other person on the mountain so far as 

235 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the boys kneiw. He had picked up a bad 
reputation by being suspected of various 
and sundry light fingered tricks. They 
having no doubt that he was the candle 
thief, caught up a rope and started for his 
place, bent on summary vengeance. If 
he had taken half they could have for- 
given him, but hogging all was too much. 
His cabin was nearly bare of supplies and 
comforts, but behold, under his cot was 
found a big pile of candles neatly stacked 
up. Just as the discovery was made the 
supposed thief came in from his tunnel. 
He stood amazed, and for a minute not 
a word was spoken. Then one of the 
boys said: 

"Frank, if you've got anything to say 
or a message to leave, spit it out, 'cause 
were going to string you good and 
plenty. What made you take all we had ?" 

He hesitated a moment, then his eyes 
filled with tears. 

"It's about those candles I presume," 
•he began. "They are not mine, and so' 
help me God, I never saw tnem until 
now." 

"Dbn't talk off that-a-way, neighbor. 
What do you take us for? Don't waste 
your time?" 

"I'm not caring so much wfhat you do 
with me," he continued, indifferent to the 

236 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

interruption, but don't make a bad 
break." 

He drew a knife from his pocket and 
threw it down. 

"I'm not afraid of both on ye, when 
it comes to a show down; but let's look 
into this here business. Wouldn't I be a 

d ^d fool to crib all your stock, when 

I could have took part and probably you 
wouldn't have known anything about it? 
Now I've this to say: Since my old 
mammy died last spring I've been differ- 
ent from what I was. Since then, if 
either on ye have iheard a word agin me 
it was onjust. I've been thinking of 
hiking back to God's country as soon as 
I can, but if this 'ere ain't cleared up 
right, you may do what you please with 
me an' I won't kick." 

He was so seriously in earnest the boys 
decided to look the ground over, though 
confident nothing would come of it. 

The three started for the other cabin, 
to begin a search from there. On the 
way they noticed that the only visible 
footprints between the two cabins were 
those just made; but a few feet above 
this trail was a nearly straight line in the 
snow that might have been made by 
dragging a shovel handle. When this 
mysterious line Was traced to the boy's 
cabin and to a small hole between the 

237 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

logs, one of them suddenly threw up his 
hands and exclaimed: 

"Well, damn my skin if it wasn't rats!" 
Then there was hand-shaking and cigars 
for three, followed by the best dinner the 
place afforded. After that the supposed 
thief and his accusers were inseparable 
friends — like the "Three Guardsmen," 
"One for all and all for one." 
± ± 

An old miner who had some claims in 
Skeleton gulch one afternoon went down 
to camp for supplies, leaving his partner, 
a young tenderfoot, alone in their new 
cabin. It was an all-night trip, as the 
trail was bad. The young man was a 
"skeery" duck, and v^ould shy even when 
the gruesome name of the gulch was men- 
tioned. 

On returning in the morning the old 
man found his partner in a frenzied state, 
with his personal belongings packed and 
ready to pull out. He said the place was 
haunted, relating how shortly after he 
turned in strange noises began and con- 
tinued at intervals all night, and he had 
laid shivering in a cold sweat and with 
covered head listening to them. It 
seemed to him, he said, like murderous 
weapons were being dropped from the 
roof, dragged the length of the floor and 
dropped again into a cavern. 

238 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

The old man laughed loud and long. 

*'Why, yer hair is standin' on end yet, 
kid," he said, "an' dang my buttons if I 
don't believe its' a turnin' gray, all on 
account of rats." 

Then he went to where there was a 
knothole in the floor, pried up a board 
'and brought forth spoons, knives and 
forks that a thieving rodent had taken 
from the table. 

'As he stood by the stove turning flap- 
jacks for breakfast the old man eyed the 
knothole and mused: 

"Blessed if I'll ever tell what satisfac- 
tion those rascally divils git outen hankey 
pankey plays like that 'ere. They can't 
eat 'em, that's certain. 

Along in the winter of 1883 a couple 
of tenderfeet, lured by reports of rich dig- 
gings, tramped into camp and planned to 
stay there until spring and try their luck. 

A tinhorn and bad actor, lying around 
broke and unable to get away, conceived 
an audacious scheme to work the new 
arrivals, and at once set about it. Just 
onside the town limits was an immense 
conglomerate rock the length of a small 
cabin. Having a gable like a roof, in 
shape it presented a striking resemblance 
to a dwelling. It was under several feet 

239 



HANDSET REiMlNISOENCES 

of snow — not a color of rock being in 
sight — and to complete the likeness some 
one had crawled up at the rear and 
crowned it with a joint of stovepipe. 

''Red" asked the strangers to have 
something at his expense, and stood oflf 
the barkeep. 

"Are you boys going to stay here some 
time?" he asked. 

"Yes ; we plan to try prospecting for a 
while," said one. 

"That so? Well you'll make it all 
right. Lots of gold around here. Stop- 
ping at a hotel?" 

"Yes." 

"You ain't on. Wihat's the use of get- 
ting shut of your plunks that way, when 
there's nothing to do an' you can bach for 
a fraction of the cost? Get a little cabin. 
Then you'll have not only a place of your 
own to turn into, but it won't cost much 
and you can save the price in a few 
weeks." 

. "We've been thinking about doing 
that very thing." 

"Do it sure. Here, barkeep, let's have 
another — ^this is my birthday. By' George, 
sorry I didn't meet you fellows sooner. 
I've got just the little shack you want, 
ibut will leave for Denver on the early 
train, to be gone a month on county 

240 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

business. You see (in an undertone) I'm 
a deputy sheriff." 

The suckers said they were very sorry, 
having no doubt they would want the 
place. 

"I 'just completed it before the snow 
came but didn't move in, expecting to 
go out for the winter. It's 10 by 14, built 
of hewied logs, tight as a drum; has a 
shake roof, two windows, battened door, 
no floor — seldom need floors in camp 
cabins ; and there's a good lot." 

O'ne of the strangers then treated, after 
which Red took them out in the bright 
moonlight to see his place, saying it 
wasn't locked and they might want to 
examine it during his absence. He pro- 
fessed great surprise on finding it com- 
pletely buried; but said it was because 
the logs were green and the first fire 
had yet to be built that the snow hadn't 
melted. 

"You see, though, it's all ready for a 
fire," he said, pointing to the stovepipe. 

They returned to the saloon. After 
chatting over two or three steaming hot 
ones. Red suddenly exclaimed: 

"By jove ! I'm sorry I didn't meet you 
fellows sooner. I'm short of stuff. Tha< 
thar cabin and lot would be cheap at $300. 
If you're a mind to pay me a hundred 

241 



HANDSEIT REMINISCENCES 

cash I'll give you a receipt and you can 
have the layout for $200. Pay me the 
balance when I git back and I'll have a 
quit claim deed made out. 

They came through like lambs, and 
Red was well on his way toward the 
valley when they awoke from the effects 
of his birthday hospitality. 

About the hour when graveyards yawn 
one bitter, blustery night — so disagree- 
able that even red-eyed toters of bottled 
spirits were loth to be about — ^the 
White House saloon door suddenly 
opened and in fell an old bum, like a sack 
of wheat. He not only fell in, but sprawl- 
ing on the floor, and lay there. After 
gazing a minute at the ceiling as 
in a brown study, with a heavenly smile 
he closed his watery eyes, then drew a 
deep sigh and became apparently dead to 
the world. 

It was "Irish," an old familiar of the 
camp, whom nobody knew anything 
about except his nickname, his native 
wit and abnormal capacity for whiskey 
straight. 

Billy Reese, the proprietor, hadn't had 
a customer for two hours and was in the 
act of closing for the night. But he al- 
lowed it wouldn't do to throw even Irish 

242 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

out on such a night; so being a practical 
joker he decided to have some fun. From 
the rear Billy brought in a six-foot plank, 
placed it on a couple of chairs, and over 
all spread a wagon sheet. Then by main 
strength he lifted the apparent cadaver 
on to the sheet, wrapped it until all that 
was visible was the face, smeared that 
with billiard chalk until it would have 
made a corpse shudder, and completed the 
picture by placing beer caps on the 
eyes and lighted candles at the head and 
feet of the departed. 

A caller dropped in. After taking a 
drink and a glance at the uncanny ex- 
hibit, he of course went out to spread the 
news. 

The joke proved a great stroke of busi- 
ness for Billy. Several saloons closed at 
once, in deference to the memory of their 
deceased patron, and soon a score of bar- 
keepers and late rounders were lined up 
at the White House bar asking for drinks 
and how it happened. 

The ''taking off" was startling in its 
suddenness, for Irish had been the rounds 
several times during the evening, appar- 
ently in usual health. Brief eulogies 
were spoken, the consensus of sentiment 
expressed being that the departed was 
a man of whom it could be said he had 
but one enemy — himself. 

243 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Some one called everybody up to take 
a jolt in miemory of the silent one, and a 
toast had been given^ — ''May the old boy 
have a pleasant, journey" — ^when there 
was heard a rustling in the corner where 
the corpse lay. There sat Irish, bolt up- 
right, glaring at Billy. His quick wit had 
sized up the situation. 

*T suppose ye do be thinking you're 

d d smart, Billy Reese," he shouted. 

Miay be ye are ; but don't kick it over by 
lavin' me out of that. Bring me four 
fingers of the best ye have, or I'll come 
and knock the dust out of ye !" 

Billy took in a fat wad that night, but 
the other barkeeps had it in for him ever 
after. 

4 4 

If in any week Hank Williams didn't 
hand out a "swell" Sunday dinner at the 
Pitkin House, it was because his "chef" 
was on a skate and there was no one 
but himself to prepare and serve it. Reg- 
ular dinners were 75 cents; Sunday 
swells, $1.00. 

One day Hank came intO' my office 
quite excited. 

"I've just hired the dandiest French 
cook that ever struck camp," he began, 
"an' am gonna get up a Sunday feed 
that'll knock anything previous. I want 

244 



FOUR TEARS IN GEHENNA 

you to print a lot of "pograms" (that 
was what he called a menu), and sling 
into 'em all the 'parley voo' you know 
anything about." 

*'I savy French very little," I replied. 
"Of course, you will have consomme la 
royale." I now recall the name of but 
one other strictly French dish — "pate de 
foi gras." 

"What the h— 1 is that?" 

"'Geese livers, specially prepared. You 
can't get them this side of Denver, if 
there." 

"Dbn't fool yourself. I'll send the 
stable boy down the canyon after jack- 
rabbit livers. Nobody'll know the differ- 
ence. Paddy wha'd you call 'em goes." 

"Then I forgot. You must wind up 
with "cafe noir.' " 

"You've got me again." 

"Black coffee." 

"Sure, she alius goes, in French or 
United States. You'll think up a lot more. 
Then in the center I want you to print 
in a big red line, "Mutton, Mjutton, Mut- 
ton,' in French if you can." 

And he wtinked. It had already been 
noised about that the carcass of a rocky 
mountain sheep — interdicted by law — 
was cached somewhere in camp. All den- 
izens of the hills know, or ought to, that 

245 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the flesh of this almost sacred animal — 
so scarce it is — is the sweetest of all 
meats. 

"You ought to get names of dishes from 
the cook." 

"That duck ! He's a Kanaka — ^can't 
write even his own language! — just has 
a long mustache, but I'll send him over 
to tell you anything he may know, and 
am gonna trust you to do the rest. Don't 
ferget to say 'one dollar a plate,' an' 
Henery'll be there with the goods." 

Sunday afternoon the dining room was 
crowded. The "pogram" had been well 
distributed. Everybody was on to the 
red mutton. 

There was a prolonged delay and the 
guests had begun to get fidgity, When old 
Hank, sweating like a hired man, swung 
open the kitchen door with a bang. 

"I hear it's bein' told around that I'm 
employin' a fancy French cook. MIebby 
I am, an' mebby I ain't; but if I am he's 
down town, drunk or a playin' stud poker, 
or both, and hain't been seen around 
here since yestiday. I want you to all 
understan' that Henery is a doin' this 'ere 
cookin' hisself an' they hain't a dam thing 
comin' up but miutton and pastry. Any 
person that don't like my style of fryin', 

246 



FOUR YEARS IN G-EHENNA 

stewin' an' bakin', an' is off his feed on 
that account, can get out." 

This speech brought down a general 
hand-clap. All knew how to take old 
Hank when he was sore, and knew he 
was a pretty good cook himself. So no 
one stirred and the dinner v^as all right. 

But the Pitkin House having many 
times and oft announced a new chef just 
over from Paree, who didn't materialize,, 
in time it began to be suspected that the 
"jolly" proprietor had played the game 
to the limit. 

In the summer of 1883 there came to 
Pitkin a young Methodist divine — not of 
the roaring sort — ^just a plain, earnest 
worker, and though college bred and a 
downeaster, with sense enough not to 
bring any pulpit starch into a woolly 
community. He mingled with the boys, 
adopted their speech and ways as far as 
his calling would permit, and was popu- 
lar from the jump. 

One of his first moves was to have a 
lot of fir poles hauled to his door, and 
with a buck saw he reduced enough of 
them to stove length to last a year. This 
made him solid with the boys ; for the 
idea was well grounded amon^ them that 

247 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

men of the cloth drew the line on any- 
thing they recognized as real work. 

An old parson who held services in a 
little log- chapel down town, and had been 
kept warm in winter by "chopping bees" 
/ — ^claiming he had no time for anything 
but preparing sermons and visiting par- 
ishioners^ — after this example was allowed 
to run short of fuel. He appealed to a 
neighbor who had been active in keeping 
him supplied, asking if there was any one 
who could be hired to saw some wood. 

The neighbor was busy, and just then 
couldn't think of any one, but said laconi- 
cally, ''You might try the new elder." 

When cold weather set in there was 
'hardly enough doing to keep everybody 
in plain grub. Booze being a luxury, 
many had to cut it out. So it came to 
pass that the saloons were less frequent- 
ed, and the patrons having to spend their 
time somewhere, often dropped into 
the new elder's evening meetings by 
dozens, so that the seats were pretty 
well filled. Mr. Farnum, as I will call 
'him, while not conceited, rejoiced that 
he was stirring up what appeared to be a 
spiritual awakening, and planned a sea- 
son of nightly revival meetings. Sum- 
moning the assistance of a Gunnison City 
divine, they went at it hammer and tongs 

248 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

and soon had the front seats filled with 
calloused old sinners wlho had "come 
forward" and asked to be prayed for. 

Cine day Mr. Farnum came into my 
office rubbing his hands in high glee. 

"I've got nearly fifty new ones interest- 
ed," he said, "including a number of regu- 
lar old soaks, and it begins to look like the 
whole community is listening. After the 
clean-up here" (clean-up is a placer min- 
ers' phrase), "I believe I'll try to get a 
call from Leadville, or some place where 
there is a larger field for my style of 
work. I never thought of turnmg out 
to be a revivalist." 

When spring came there seemed to be 
at least forty converts who had symptoms 
of becoming faithful and earnest work- 
ers in the new vineyard — as a miner 
would say "of stajying with the New 
Jerusalem prospect." But the time arriv- 
ing when they could go into the hills and 
earn a little spending money, sad to re- 
late, one after another fell back into the 
old ways and shunned the elder. 

Along in the summer one afternoon I 
met Mir. Farnum on the street, looking 
woe begone and as if about to shed tears. 

"What's the matter?" I asked. 

"Look over there." 

249 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

On the opposite walk, clinging to an 
awning post and drunk as a lord was 
"Grease wood" Jones. Greasewiood was 
naturally a good boy, and had turned into 
the new way with all the earnestness in 
his system. 

"Out of the whole winter's harvest," 
said the elder, his voice trembling, 
"Greasewood was the very last to stay 
with me. All fell about the first time 
they were passing one of those accursed 
hell holes with money. Now you see 
he's gone, God forgive him. I told you 
I thought of going to Leadville. Not for 
me^ — I'm a backslider myself, if going out 
as soon as we can pack our belongings is 
a symptom, but not to any other min- 
ing camp." 

With his family he went — ^back, I pre- 
sume, to his native heath in Maine. 
Anyway, it v^as the last I ever saw or 
heard of my dear friends, the Farnums. 

One night when I was on my way via 
the Denver & Rio Grande to my home 
in the Quartz creek "crack in the moun- 
tains," a sensational incident happened 
suggestive of old cowboy days. 

In the coach with me were but four 
persons — 3, couple of Gunnison mer- 
chants, a dudish-looking young fellow in 

250 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

loud togs and an eastern cap^ — at a glance 
a tenderfoot — and a quite large woman 
wearing a veil. 

Just as we were pulling out of a wood- 
up station, two rough chaps in cowboy 
hats and wearing skates, burst into the 
rear door yelling and whooping. 

I shall always think that on seeing 
there were so few passengers, and sizing 
up the dude, they were siezed with an 
inspiration that here was a chance to 
pose as "bad men." Anywiay, both flour- 
ished revolvers, and one took a shot at 
the floor just as the conductor entered 
the front door. The official stood not 
"upon the order of his going," but got 
out, much quicker than he entered. 
"Scotty," so-called, was not only "dis- 
creet," but knew his best plan in such 
cases was to wire ahead for help. 

The roughs singled out the tenderfoot, 
who was quaking wjith fear, and poking 
his ribs with a gun made him get up' and 
dance a jig, after which they produced a 
bottle and forced hirn to take a strangle 
dose. It was a full minute before he 
caught his breath. Then they opened a 
window and allowed they were going to 
throw him out. 

The window happened to be opposite 
the veiled woman. The rush of cold 

251 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

night air seemed to electrify her. Sud- 
denly she slipped out of her coat, threw 
off her veil, and springing at the largest 
of the toughs, struck him wiith her open 
hand a blow on the face that could be 
heard in the next car, exclaiming: 

"You d — d dirty coward, give me that 
gun !" 

There was a cold glitter in her steel 
gray eyes that might have cowed a brave 
man. The gun was meekly handed over. 
Then she jumped on to a seat and 
shouted : 

"Nlow, you two-for-a-nickel sports, 
sashay, both on ye, and do it d — d live- 
ly. (Gp to it !" 

After they had shuffled up and down 
the aisle, showing they really knew 
how, she pulled the bell rope. As the 
train slowed dowin she drew a bead on the 
big fellow and yelled: 

*'You and your pardner get out of here, 
on the double quick. Git!'* 

Well, you ought to have seen those bad 
mjen, now duly sober, tumbling over 
each other in a rush for the door. When 
they were gone the woman settled into 
her seat, shouting with laughter. Then 
turning to the merchants she said: 

"Well, didn't they go a jumpin' an' a 

252 



FOUR YEARS IN GEHENNA 

;flyin' !" Then added : *Tf anybody should 
ax ye, I'm 'Cheyenne Em.' " 

That name was widely known in the 
west. Cheyenne Em could rope and tie 
a steer and ''bust a broncho" better than 
any other cow girl, and in gun practice 
plunk an ace as far as she could see it. 
While she made an awful tough record, 
it was said of her that she was always 
ready to ante her last dollar for charity's 
sake — a, quality said to "cover a multi- 
tude of sins." Her's were nothing less. 



253 



Forty Years After, 



In the dog days of 1899, needing a lay- 
off from arduous duties as printer, editor, 
devil and otherwise, I made a trip east 
that took in my old "stamping ground" 
(New York City), Philadelphia, Roches- 
ter and other points. 

Side-stepping from usual routes, by a 
southern branch of the Denver & Rio 
Grand railroad I went to Ojo Caliente 
(warm springs). New Mexico, where is 
a little M'exican hamlet of the same name, 
and there spent a delightful month. 

There are two springs, flowing side by 
side, near creek level from an overhang- 
ing mass of rock. Their waters are high- 
ly charged with minerals; but so differ- 
ent are they in analyses and taste as to 
suggest that Dame Nature has here easi- 
ly beaten the trick of the prestidigitateur 
who draws wine and plain booze from the 
same bottle. From this outlet to her 
mysterious laboratory gushes two dis- 
tinct sparkling streams, not half a dozen 
feet apart, in volume sufficient to run a 
small mill. 

Twienty years ago Ojo Caliente was a 
popular resort for invalids and pleasure 

254 



FOBTT TEARS AFTER 

seekers. Instances are cited of its re- 
markable cures of rheumatism, kidney 
and nervous troubles. A pinkish calcite 
precipitated from the waters, when pul- 
verized and used in the form of mud 
baths, was said to be a specific for viru- 
lent blood diseases. A Denver man told 
me in confidence he had been the victim 
of a syphilitic taint ; that he took the mud 
baths for several weeks, after which an 
expert tested his blood and pronounced 
it chemically pure. I am forced to ac- 
cept this statement with reservations, for 
there were no appliances for giving these 
baths with beneficial effect. 

The idea of mud baths having a heal- 
ing virtue may have been suggested by 
the story of the Master causing scales to 
fall from the blind man's eyes by taking 
up a handful of earth and after he had 
spat upon it applying it to the sightless 
organs. 

Earth is well known to be a great ren- 
ovator, by virtue of its drawing quali- 
ties. Neighbor Hayseed, wise to this, 
when he argues with a skunk and gets 
the worst of it by no means casteth forth 
his raiment, but straightway burieth it 
for three days and three nights, even 
until the morning of the fourth day. And 
when it is brought forth, behold, it is 

255 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

sweet as a nut — purified of all bad odors 
— thanks to the skunk. And it would 
seem that this treatment, if it could be 
applied, ought to do a bad breath some 
good. 

While hereditary influences seem to 
prejudice the Yuma Indian against bath- 
ing of any sort, also moving from the 
spot "where he is now at" less seldom 
than once a day, he has frequent use for 
a mud application that is as effective as 
it is unique. When ''crums" have multi- 
Iplied until his hair is stiff with nits, and 
scratching becomes too much like work, 
he plasters his head with adobe and lets 
it dry in the sun. Then he removes 
the poultice by jarring it loose — no wa- 
ter, mind you — ^and the vermin, present 
and prospective, go with it — having died 
a horrible death from asphyxiation. 

As the mud) baths are a western inven- 
tion, the manner of administering them 
may not be generally known. They are 
given daily in a box shaped like a bath- 
tub, in which the bather lies at full length. 
He is plastered by an attendant from head 
to foot, even to his face and hair, with 
soft mud, then miust not stir until it is 
thoroughly dry. He is then cleansed with 
hot v^ater. After a month of this treat- 
ment the patient's system is supposed to 

256 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

be not only completely renovated, but he 
should be so lithe as to be able to jump 
a seven-foot fence or a board bill of any 
size. 

Whatever virtues the waters, mud or 
no mud, may carry, when I wlas there the 
place as a resort was practicaly deserted 
— due probably to the owner's lack of en- 
terprise. He was giving his attention to 
a general store — ^doing a good business 
but of peanut dimensions compared with 
what the resort might have done if ad- 
vertised. 

During my stay at Ojo Caliente I 
divided the time between two baths a 
day and rambles in the surrounding hills, 
more or less wooded, where there were 
interesting species of wild song birds and 
plants and flowers strange to me. I found 
cliff-dwellers' relics, various minerals, and 
a ledge of izinglass that may have been 
valuable. Also where a tunnel had been 
driven twelve or fifteen feet by cracking 
the rock with heat — a primitive method 
said to have been employed by the Span- 
ish conquerers in their search for gold. 

Each day while bathing I gave my face 
a thorough massage, and it became as 
free from wrinkles as an egg. There was 
bloom on my cheeks, my "bible back" had 
shifted, my step was firm and elastic, 

257 



HAJ^DSET REMINISCENCES 

and but for tell-tale hair I might have 
passed for a proper young man. 

The people of the hamlet, being Mex- 
icans ("greasers" in the vernacular), 
speak broken English or none at all, and 
dwell in monotonous little adobe houses 
with few windows and adobe floors. 
They live close to nature, are genial, gen- 
uine and hospitable, and I saw not one 
who looked as if eaten by envy or desire 
to excite the envy of his neighbors. 

By invitation I attended a fandango, 
given for the benefit of the local Catholic 
chapel^ — the only church in the place. It 
wlas noticea^ble at this gathering that 
silken ladies, haughty steppers and tilted 
noses were absent. Duennas and elderly 
senoras; — now; and then one enjoying a 
cigarette — posed as wall flowers and wore 
calicos. The young senoras and senori- 
tas — many of them models for a studio 
— shone in bright calicos, simple orna- 
ments, wild flowers and tasty hair rib- 
bons. Only nature's bloom tinted their 
cheeks, and not one courted envy or a 
diseased spine by wearing French heels. 
Desire to outshine or snub less attractive 
turnouts was not noticeable. 

I failed to notice a single signer who 
looked like he had been kept awake 
nights with pleadings that he mortgage 

258 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

the home to buy an auto, or was try- 
ing to support a $15 family on a $10 sal- 
ary. All seemed prosperous, contented, 
and hospitably inclined toward the 
stranger within their gates. There were 
no lady killers at the exits, or drunken 
rowdies around looking for trouble. 

Lest you may have obtained an unjust 
opinion of our swarthy southern neigh- 
bors, this is written. To get next to 
the cutthroat variety one has to go nearer 
the equator. 

As the guest of an esteemed citizen of 
the hamlet, Juan Lopez, accompanied by 
his wife and daughter, I enjoyed a trip to 
a large spring ten miles up the creek. It 
is in a wild but interesting part of the 
valley, surrounded by rocks and jungle, 
with cliffs adjacent. Half of Caliente 
creek seems to outpour from this spring 
of pure cold water. 

Senora Lopez speaks quite good Eng- 
lish and was chatty; while her charming 
daughter — iSenorita Juanita ("Rita" for 
short) — home on a vacation from a sis- 
ters' academy at Denver — unspoiled by 
contact with "civilization" wore a plain 
straw hat without a feather, talked of 
something besides clothes, ate without 
a fork, and sans notes or urging, sang 
a pretty Spanish ballad. 

259 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

We passed a ranch wlhere wiheat was 
being threshed under horses' feet. In an 
enclosure like a circus ring half a dozen 
bronchos moving in a circle were tread- 
ing on grain until it was clean of kernels, 
when the straw was replaced by other 
grain. How the kernels were finally gath- 
ered and separated from chaff and soil 
did not appear. 

As we retraced the stream the whirr of 
an old-fashioned gristmill greeted my 
ear — a, reminder of the happy childhood 
days I spent angling in the old mill pond, 
within sound of the chug-chug of an 
overshot wheel. The mill machinery had 
been rudely tt)ggled and repaired so of- 
ten as to give it a quaint home-made 
look. Flour was being turned out, all 
right — ^coarse and rather dark, but no 
doulbt healthier than the boasted fine 
white product of the* high patent process. 

Nlot many of my readers, I imagine, 
have ever seen an old hand loom, such as 
grandmother toiled at, making fabrics 
that kept her loved ones warm and add- 
ed to the family income. At a house 
wlhere we rested I found one, with a 
wrinkled old dame flying the shuttles. 
The cloth she was making was coarse, 
fbut I'll venture to say it outlasted three 
suits of "store clothes." The loom with 

260 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

its rude frame and parts was evidently 
made many years ago. 

Another house where we halted was 
a veritable hive of industry. In one cor- 
ner a spinning wheel was droning a 
song of other days, that appealed to me 
— in fact, had I been reclining at ease, it 
might have lulled me to sleep, as grand- 
miother's so often did. In another corner 
was a flax genet busily working, while 
at the back raw material was being 
dressed with hitchel and cards. The 
group also included two or three old 
dames dilligently knitting. To me this 
scene, once familiar in every detail, long 
since veiled in the misty past, was more 
entertaining than any tinseled show. 

While at the springs I often met a 
Spaniard who spoke perfect English, and 
told of having spent his early days on the 
coast. I learned that his name was 
Elmanuel Cortez. 

"Were you ever at Virginia City?" I 
asked. 

"Yes, in 1862, but only for a few 
m;onths." 

"Afterwards, you lived with a sister in 
the Spanish quarter off Jackson street 
in San Francisco?" 

261 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

"Yes, sir," he replied, staring at me 
with his big ibrown eyes. 

"While in Virginia City you served as 
waiter in the Virginia restaurant, and 
was discharged for declining to take an 
insult from a customer." 

"That is right. In heaven's name, how 
do you know these things?" 

"Your sister's name was Barbara." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Do you remember that when you 
were discharged you had only $4 coming* 
and was homesick to go back to your 
sister?" 

"Indeed I do," as if yesterday. 

"You told your trouble to a patron of 
the restaurant and he gave you some 
money." 

"To my dying day I'll not forget that." 

"It was me that helped you out." 

He grasped both my hands, and tears 
came in his eyes — ^also a twinkle. 

"And do you mean to tell me you are 
still on earth, after eating that Virginia 
grub?" 

"I was on the sick list for weeks with 
indigestion and sympathetic heart distur- 
bance, but, as you see, pulled through." 

Emanuel was a lad of 15 when I knew 
him. In San Francisco, aided by his sis- 
ter, (older and the custodian of means 

262 



FOKTT YEABS AFTER 

left by their parents), he attended an 
English school until of age, ^Nhen they 
removed to New Mexico and settled on 
a ranch — a part of the estate. They were 
now living in the village. Emanuel was 
a bachelor, prosperous, and his devoted 
sister had never married. 

After this I was a frequent guest at 
this cozy home — the pleasantest feature 
of my stay in 0|jo Caliente. 

Walking up Broadway one evening 
with a friend, when near Thirty-third 
street, we were overtaken by a shower, 
and stopped under an awning. In the 
basement of the building where we stood 
was a row of perfecting presses, and I 
learned that here was the office of the 
New York Herald. It was a strange co- 
incidence that of all buildings in the great 
city I should have halted at this one, for 
while living in New York for years nearly 
all my work as a jour printer was in 
the Herald. 

What a jump it had made too! It was 
on Ann, Nassau and Fulton streets, but 
a few blocks from the Battery, when I 
"douced my glim" for the last time in 
its cobwebby, lamp-smoked, ill-ventilat- 
ed composing room. And what a 
change from the six and ten cylinder 

263 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

presses of forty years agoi — thought at 
that time to be the perfection of mechan- 
ismi — to the marvellous machines before 
me ! One of these could deliver folded a 
hundred papers, wihile a ten cylinder, 
with a roar and crash calculated to terri- 
fy a boiler maker, was running off ten 
for kids to fold. 

The rain continued and I easily per- 
suaded myself to make the Herald a visit. 
Entering the reception room, in charge 
of an elderly retainer, we were politely 
asked our errand. 

''Many years ago," I replied, "I was 
an employee of the Herald, and am curi- 
ous to know if you have any record show- 
ing the fact." 

"In what department were you?" 

"I was a compositor." 

"In this," he said pointing to a well- 
filled cabinet, are printers' payrolls dat- 
ing back to the first issue of the Herald, 
in 1836. In what year or years were you 
here." 

''You might try 1859." 

In astonishment he looked me over, 
from head to foot. 

"Did I understand you— 1859?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Why man, that was before you were 
born." 

264 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

('Here was where my treatment at 
Ojo Caliente began to get in its work.) 

''Anyway, please look for J. B. Graham 
on the payroll of that year." 

He took down the volume, and found 
miy name on the first page examined, 
credited with a 7,800 string. After look- 
ing me over again he exclaimed: 

''Great Scott! That wias forty years 
ago, and you don't look a day older than 
35. 

"Tihat shows the preserving effect of 
being a Bible class leader, and being al- 
ways at home and ready for bed by 9 
o'clock," I said jestingly. 

"Who was the foreman then?" 

"I can't recall his name at this mo- 
ment. Wm. Smythe was the superin- 
tendent." 

After a cordial handshake with my- 
self and friend, and extending congrat- 
ulations, he touched a button and a young 
man appeared. 

"This gentleman is an old, old Herald 
printer, who set type here twenty years 
before you were born," he said. "He and 
his friend have the keys of the office to- 
night, and are welcome to remain until 
weary of us. Stay with them, and don't 
let them go until they have been the 
rounds." 

265 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

We passed into an editorial room. 

"Well glory be! Hello, Bingham." 

Thus, Eugene Young, night news edi- 
tor — a descendant of Brigham Young 
— apostate, excommunicant, and a long 
way from the "center stake of Zion." He 
knew me in Utah as publisher of the 
Bingham Bulletin. 

'Mr. Young now learned for the first 
time that in other years I had labored in 
the Herald vineyard — when the Elder 
Bennett was its owiner. Getting next to 
the fact must have given him a jolt, for 
leaving his table and going the rounds 
he introduced me to everybody in sight. 

In the ad room the foreman talked 
with me a moment, then hit the stone. 

"Gentlemen," said he, "belly up here. 
This is Jerry Graham,' who pounded type 
on the Herald back in 1859." 

One after another the boys shook 
liands with me, noticeably not with an 
extra-hearty grip. They were all old- 
timers in the office — stooped and bald or 
gray. It is a fact that as I stood there, 
fresh from the pure air of the west and 
its mineral waters, I was easily the 
youngest looking man in the room. 

To set them at ease I inquired about a 
dozen or more of the old boys — Albaugh, 
Bob Crabbe, Bill Smythe, Tom Bell, Bill 

266 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

Leaning, Bob McKechnie and others. 
All had heard of Leaning, at one time 
foreman of the composing room. He was 
no piker — ^had the distinction of winning 
a bet of $50 that he could set 125,000 in 
seven days, regular time, on regular hook 
matter — ^besides getting in several hours' 
overtime at stone work. When I men- 
tioned MlcKechnie there was a percipti- 
fble stir. He had also been foreman and 
was alive. Though he had long since 
ceased to "showl up," his name was on 
the roll for a regular weekly check. 

The boys stood for a few minutes in a 
knot by the imposing stone, glancing ni}'" 
way and evidently discussing me, when 
I heard one say: 

''You hear me — I believe he's a d^ d 

liar!" 

He could not make it track straight 
that a man looking less than forty had 
worked as a jour on the paper forty 
years before. 

It is a pertinent commentary on the 
effect of the long hours, nerve-exhausting 
work, gas light, ill ventilation and bad 
whisky of the old days, that of the hun- 
dreds of men with whom I was on the 
Herald around 1860, not a single one 
was known to be living. MicKechnie first 
showed up about 1864 and a feeble old 

267 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

igentleman, now cutting copy, was there 
in 1865. The latter did not remember 
me, or I him. 

Very few of the old morning paper 
printers liyed to see sixty years. Few 
passed their fortieth year in robust health. 
Those who criticised them for being dis- 
solute and unreliable did not appreciate 
that long hours of type setting in over- 
heated rooms, with their heads twelve 
inches from hot gas lights, was a deadly 
occupation; but they might have suspic- 
ioned something was wrong had they no- 
ticed that all printers looked worn and 
pale as cadavers. 

Though never but once having seen 
"Jimmy" Gordon Bennett — ^than helping 
him to celebrate his eighteenth birthday 
— I have the kindliest feeling for him, for 
his good heart in remembering the old 
boys who helped to make possible his 
fortunate career in life. 

It came to me that night to be shown 
a sample of Mr. Bennett's philanthropy. 
Wlhen my friend and I left the office, 
about 11 o'clock, we had with us half-a- 
dozen editors, including Mr. Young. 
They steered us against a cafe where 
good provinder and liquid refreshments 
were served. 

268 



FORTY TEARS AFTER 

The feast was all right, but most en- 
joyable to me were the toasts and re- 
sponses. One gentleman, on behalf of 
the Herald, welcomed mie back to my old 
home after an absence spanning the aver- 
age age of man, and hoped I would not 
find the many changes that had taken 
place had wiped out all haunts and scenes 
of reminiscent days around which my 
memory still pleasantly lingered. He 
said that after all my years of wandering 
I had better now return to the world's 
center, resolved to settle down in some 
quiet part and end my days there ; that if 
I would go back to Bingham and throw 
my plant into the creek, I could come to 
a Herald telegraph chair and hold it down 
as long as I would want it — the only con- 
dition being that after warming it I must 
show up weekly when the ghost walked, 
or send some one. 

There were many toasts, each moist- 
ened with good old wine. Though a 
guest, my western appreciation of such 
occasions made me feel like a piker, so I 
slipped a bill for "the same" to a waiter 
at my- elbow. When we were parting the 
gentleman who had spoken for the Her- 
ald laid his hands on my shoulders and 
feelingly renewed the offer he had made. 
As he spoke one of his hands strayed 

269 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

down to a vest pocket, and I distinctly 
felt his fingers inside. I was not in a 
mood to question their perfect right there. 

I stopped at the old Astor house and 
was assigned to "President James Bu- 
chanan's suite" — during his administra- 
tion. Niearly every select room in the 
old hostelry was named for some noted 
person who had used it in the long ago. 

In the morning when dressing I re- 
called the circumstance of the fingers in 
the pocket, and on investigation found 
there the identical bill I had slipped to 
the waiter. Incidentally, it was broken to 
buy the usual remjedy for "hot coppers." 

O'n the trip I visited Philadelphia, dur- 
ing the reunion of the grand army there, 
but did not stop at Rochester, for rea- 
sons that are next to a tender subject and 
may not lack in interest. As the train 
pulled into the Rochester depot I stood 
in a sleeper vestibule, hesitating whether 
to halt or proceed on my journey. It 
was this way: 

Mly last visit to this my native city 
wjas twenty years before, and occupied 
about eight hours. Arriving one Sabbath 
morning, when the walks were filled with 
people on their way to church, I obtained 
a carriage and riding slowly scanned the 

270 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

crowds, hoping to see familiar faces. 
Most of my 'teens were spent there, and 
of the 36,000 the city contained when I 
left it, at 18, there were comparatively 
few whose features were not more or less 
familiar. After a score of years there was 
not one face I could recognize as ever 
having seen before. 

Driving to a residence where some rel- 
atives had formerly lived, I rang the bell. 
A stately looking lady of four-score years 
and snow white hair, bright eyes and 
well-preserved features, answered the 
summons. 

"Do you know me ?"I asked. 

"Do I know my own?" she exclaimed, 
placing her arms about my neck. 

She was a very dear old aunt, who 
had been like a mother to me. Living 
mostly in the far west, When communica- 
tion was not as easy as now, I had been 
lost to her for many years. 

During a short, busy visit, I learned 
that of all my relations whom I partic- 
ularly cared for she was the only one re- 
maining in the city, and so far as she 
knewl not more than half-a-dozen were 
alive. 

A short drive brought me to the old 
Graham homestead. We used to call it 
two miles in the country — it being in 

271 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

the township of Irondequoit. Now it was 
just across the street from the city limits 
— zigzag-fenced farms en route had given 
way to city lots a^nd dwellings, there 
were sidewalks all the way, and in place 
of the rough country road was a macad- 
amized thoroughfare. The past was a 
dream. And ah, the memory of it! 

The old home, though in many ways 
showing the footprints of time, did not 
seem much changed. There was the dear 
white cottage where I was born, the 
faded red horse barn where 

"The swallow sang sweet by its nest in the 
wall," 

the grain barn, the cattle sheds where 
"Crumple" and "Spot" and "Sally'^ 
munched in silent content, the rail 
fences and bars — even a patch of potatoes 
and early corn, as was wont to be, along 
the little lane that led to the house yard 
— all as my mind's eye had held them 
throughout the years. 

A pudgy, jolly-looking German met 
me at the gate. 

"Is there any one by the name of Gra- 
ham living in this neighborhood?" was 
mly first question. 

"Grame — Grame? No, sir." 

"Has any one by that name ever lived 
around here?" 

272 



FORTY TEARS AFTER 

"No, sir. I haf been on dis place four- 
teen year, and know everybody/' 

We stood in the shade of a cherry 
tree, sprung no doubt from the roots of 
one I had climbed many times and picked 
from its branches bushels of fruit. Near 
iby 

"The jassamine clambered with its flowers 
o'er the thatch" 

of the covered well, though "the old oaken 
bucket" and its clumsy sweep had given 
place to a modern water lift. I thought 
of the many dear associations twining 
around the mouldering old curb. It 
seemed as though my sainted sister had 
stood by it but yesterday. And then, the 
feeling of sadness that came over me with 
the thouglit that from the fading cottage 
"the voices of loved ones" would never 
again reply to my call! 

"M'aybe some one of that name has 
lived in this very house," I continued. 

"No, sir." 

"You say you have been here fourteen 
years. The house is old. It might have 
been built more than fifty years ago.'* 

"My gootness ! Dot house is no more 
as twenty-five ■ year built, no, sir" — no 
doubt having in mind the value of his 
belongings. "Anyways, my neighbors 
never tell me of such peoples." 

273 



HAJSTDSET REMINISCENCES 

"There is a little bedroom in that cor- 
ner, is there not?" 

"Yes, sir/' 

"When a boy I was told of being born 
in that room. My name is Graham, and 
I am close to fifty/' 

"Veil, is dot so?" 

"This ground here is but a small patch 
of what was once my father's farm. 
About 1820 he took up 150 acres of gov- 
ernment land, and later built all the im- 
provements here. Take me through that 
porch door to the orchard, and I can con- 
vince you that I was once familiar with 
some things that were here when you 
came. 

As we passed through the portal into 
the shade of a noble old apple tree I noted 
that here was little change. 

"The spider o'er the lintel weaves 

Its labyrintli of silver threads; 
The sunbeams, shining thro' the leaves 

A ground work of mosaic spreads." 

Most of the orchard showed extreme 
age. Here and there were new trees — in 
places only stumps. 

"This tree where we stand," I said, 
"was one of my favorites. It is a fall 
pippin. The next is a greening and the 
balance of the row are greenings." 

"Dot iss so." 

274 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

"The next row is greenings, the next 
golden russets, the next spitzenbergs, and 
the rest are earlier fruits. Where that 
tall stump is was a pear tree." 

Tears glistened in the old man's eyes. 

"I vas back in the faderland just, and 
vould gif my life to see my old home 
vunce yet, as you see dis blace." 

Beyond was the meadow; but farther 
on ''the deep tangled wildwood" had given 
way to a great nursery occupying the 
rest of the old estate. To my view, only 
the crumbling homestead was left. 

"So fleet the works of man back to the earth 

a,gain, 
Ancient and holy things fade like a dream." 

Should not man himself had| first-place 
in the poet's reverie? For though my 
father's works, as I now reverently saw 
them, inevitably and utterly would pass 
away, a generation had come and gone 
since he laid down his burden. He was 
constantly at the crank, turning, turning, 
no doubt with a feeling that were he to 
let go all that he had wroug'ht would fall 
to ruin. Yet he had to stop, and the 
world moved on. 

Were he — so of us all — a closer stu- 
dent of nature, how much lighter his 
earthly cares might have been. In life's 
December one of the lessons that with 

275 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

little variation must come to us all is, how 
much more joy and comfort there might 
have been if nature had been allowed to 
have its way and we had turned to enjoy 
the bright and beautiful on every hand — 
vouchsafed to the lowliest as to the high- 
est could we but see it so — and thus dis- 
missed a host of wearying troubles, not 
least the crossing of innumerable bridges 
never to be passed. 

I must here relate by way of illustra- 
tion, an instance of borrowed agony 
shared in by the whole township of Iron- 
dequoit — ^an utterly foolish and useless 
frenzy, that carried not a few to untimely 
graves : 

"When I was a very little orphan, but 
precocious observer else it would not 
seem as if yesterday, the town was en- 
veloped in a cloud of manufactured woe, 
lowering as it did over nearly every home. 
Missionaries of a sect called Millerites — 
forebears I believe of the present Seventh 
Diay Adventists — had converted nearly 
everybody to the belief that the world 
was about to cash in. The day, even the 
hour, was set v^hen the great game, so 
many millions of years old, would turn 
up the box. The only time when the sin- 
less elect — who in a year had not cooked 
their meals on a Sunday — really enjoyed 

276 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

the little of life remaining was when they 
had wrought themselves into a frenzy at 
prayer meetings. Then they were really 
glad to feel they were on the last lap, and 
would shout and sing, even dance as well 
as pray. 

Meetings were held every week at our 
house, is why the doings came to be so 
impressed on my memory. I used to 
climb to an attic window, to be the first 
to tell of an angelic skirmish line actually 
in sight. Between meets the gloom was 
simply awful. The date for the pyrotech- 
nics was drawing nearer and nearer, and 
the poor, haggard-faced fanatics would 
throw chills when they thought of the 
hour when the band wiould toot its first 
blast. 

Several dates predicted for the grand 
event went shy. I don't remember the 
excuses giveni — ^probably on account of 
changes in the weather. But in the year 
1843, as it came to pass, it was finally 
given out that Gabriel would positively 
blow his horn at 9 o'clock sharp on a 
certain night in the dark of the moon. 
This main incident is particularly recalled 
because, I remember, it also came to pass 
that a large assortment of enthusiasts col- 
lected in our yard with ringed, streaked 
and speckled ascension robes under their 

277 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

arms. No one could take treasures along, 
'but they just had to have robes^ — every 
soul had to appear before the throne of 
grace in a calico shirt. 

As there was no sense in even a kid 
turning in on that last night, I had to sit 
up with the rest. 

An ominous thunder stormi with dis- 
tant mutterings was gathering in the 
southwest, and but for lightning flashes 
the night was dark as a pocket. Sud- 
denly, at five minutes before time — if the 
clock was right — to the southwest in the 
orchard were to be seen four lights, in a 
row and moving rapidly toward the 
house. I still think I heard teeth chatter- 
ing all around me as those awful though 
noiseless lights came into view. The 
whole flock dropped to their knees. The 
!bell wether tried to lift his voice in 
prayer, but couldn't make it. On open- 
ing his eyes he saw four belated ewes 
clambering over the yard fence. They 
had cut across lots to "get there," and 
be translated with the crowd. 

Some time later there came a heavy 
storm and great snowdrifts banked in 
the roads. A farmer riding in a sleigh 
made his way, slowly, until he came to 
a huge bank that defied further progress. 
Climbing to the top he found that an- 

278 



FORTY TEARS AFTER 

other farmer, his team stalled, was on 
the other side with shovel in hand dig- 
ging a passage. 

"Hello!" he shouted. "What you 
doin' down there?" 

The digger was evidently a non-be- 
liever, for he answered, "Fm a figerin' 
that there's a d — d sight of difference be- 
tween this here and the world burning 
up." 

Just think of the borrowed trouble, the 
anguish suffered by those three-ply saints 
during the years that Millerism was ram- 
pant! Broaden this reflection and what 
mortal can conceive of the time worse 
than wasted — now as then, and as it al- 
ways has been — trying to peep through 
the dark wall that hides from mortal view 
the great beyond, while prodigal nature's 
wondrous gifts to man, that make a 
heaven of earth if not repelled, are 
brushed aside or passed unnoticed. 

An old neighbor and his good wife — a. 
lovely young woman when I w'as a lad, 
now feeble and white haired — were still 
living on their farm near by. They were 
rejoiced to see "Squire Graham's young- 
est son," and would not listen to my go- 
ing away until I had broken bread with 
them. What a visit it was — during which 

279 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

I learned that of the old near neighbors 
not another one was left ! 

A mile distant I found a cousin living 
in the farm house her parents had occu- 
pied long before she was born. There was 
only the homestead left — the farm hav- 
ing been parceled and sold as city lots. 
She w'as much older than I, but had tak- 
en a lively interest in me as a suscepti- 
ble young man — even came near mating 
me with a young spinster of the vicinity. 
She tipped the scales at 120 pounds, was 
spry at a dance and a rare single-handed 
talker. Imagine my surprise on now find- 
ing her a freak, weighing 300 pounds, only 
able to waddle about with crutch and 
stick. She did not know me. When told 
who I was she tardily gavd me her hand, 
with a common place word as if greeting 
an everyday caller. Only by many re- 
callings of old times did she finally awake 
to the occasion, after which followed an 
enjoyable chat. 

Is it strange that as I now passed 
through my native city, viewing it per- 
haps for the last time, there was no tug- 
ging at my heartstrings? On the former 
occasion, as here related, of the thousands 
of my connections and people whom I 

280 



FORTY YEARS AFTER 

had intimately known I had met but four. 
Had it been a week day, a round of the 
print shops might have put me next to one 
or more of the "old boys ;" but not likely. 
The only one I knew to be living was 
James B. Spinning, who is now a pen- 
sioner if living, and long since off the 
active list. 

What food for reflection there was in 
that lonely return to the old scenes, and 
what a commentary on the insignificance 
of a human life. Mjy father was easily 
the most successful and best known citi- 
zen of Irondequoit township. His farm 
was a model. He was justice of the peace 
for twenty years, and as a country attor- 
ney had a lucrative practice. It was said 
of Squire Graham that during his many 
years as justice he had officiated at every 
wedding in the town, while his farm was 
often a Gretna Green for city couples 
wanting to steal a march on their friends. 
His personal records, covering many hun- 
dreds of pages, are in evidence that he 
must have done a thriving business in the 
hymeneal line. The entries varied little 
except in names, thus: "Appeared before 
me this day Jehiel Lambert and Spinster 
NIancy Mehitabel Wilsie," etc., "and were 
duly united in the holy bonds of matri- 
mony." 

281 



HANDSET REMIlSnSCENCES 

Like most very busy men, my father 
was no doubt so inspired by his import- 
ance as to believe that should he be sud- 
denly called to let go of the crank his lit- 
tle w^orld would cease turning and all 
would collapse. Yet within a week, per- 
haps a month, after his heart was stilled, 
the community, the farm and the family 
were getting on without him, and the ad- 
ministrator had laid plans for grabbing 
most of the state) — ^these so absorbing his 
attention that he even neglected or for- 
got to set a stone to mark the grave. 

It was reserved for me to learn, only 
forty years after, that no one knew just 
where my father's remains were laid; 
that he had planned, and worried, and 
wrought for the most part apparently in 
vain; that while the home he had made 
was still there, though crumbling and go- 
ing "back to the earth again," perhaps not 
six persons still remembered that he had 
ever lived. 



282 



My Last Venture. 

On the 25th of December, 1895, I pub- 
lished my first number of the Bingham 
(Utah) Bulletin, of which I had a week 
before become "editor, publisher and 
sole proprietor," without paying a dollar 
down and with nowhere to get one. It 
was this way: 

After working several years in a Salt 
Lake job office — averaging three to fou! 
days a week and practicing economy — I 
found myself in debt and facing a season 
that promised to be uncommonly dull. 

One day when I had been browsing on 
gloom until in a reckless mood, I met 
the then owner of the Bulletin, who of- 
fered to sell it to me on time, as he was 
ill and wanted a change of climate. I 
have heard since that he was love sick, 
and the girl had married "another." 

I shied at even the fare to Bingham, 
but went with him, looked the layout 
over, and concluded to take a long 
chance. 

Bingham Canyon, as the camp is 
called, at that time had 1,500 people, 
mostly miners, with enough weather- 
beaten, tumble-down shacks to cover 

283 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

them. There were some quite respectable 
(business buildings, two large general 
stores, a meatmarket, several small shops 
and half a dozen wide-open saloons. The 
camp lies for miles along an uninteresting 
canyon. A California writer once happi- 
ly described it as being sixty feet wide 
and nine miles long. The tourist looking 
for scenery could find much to interest 
along the rocky ridges, overhanging cliffs 
and high mountains beyond; but there 
were no sidewalks flanking the one main 
street, and it being badly cut up by heavy 
ore wagons, one had to stand or walk in 
mud four to six inches deep, while the 
extreme upper part of the camp could 
only be reached on foot by two hours' 
of walking in the same. 

At a glance the outlook was foi^bidding. 
City dailies were circulated every morn- 
ing by 10 o'clock, making the field for a 
skinny weekly seem bare as a goose pas- 
ture. "No wonder this young man is 
feeling unwell," I thought. "He ought to 
get some relief, wherever he goes." But 
I put in a couple of days looking around, 
and saw things. 

As the business center and shipping 
point of West Mountain mining district, 
Bingham was annually sending out 60,- 
000 to 65,000 tons of good silver-lead ore. 

284 



MY IxA.ST VENTURE 

It was the distributing point for hun- 
dreds of small mines and prospects — 
many of the latter barely scratched over. 
It was the terminal of a twelve-mile 
branch railroad, said to be making more 
money for its size than any other road 
in the United States. It had a horse tram- 
wiay several miles long, actively used in 
connection with a number of mining pro- 
perties—one with an alleged $20,000,000 
product record; and in the district were 
four large concentrating miills. Along 
the creek over a million dollars' worth 
of placer gold had been recovered, and 
sluicing was still going on. In many 
places the quartz veins had run into base 
ore, containing copper, added to which 
the presence of %. of 1 per cent copper in 
solution flowing from springs, and cop- 
per-stained rock profusely scattered 
along some of the ridges, suggested that 
sooner or later the red metal in large 
quantities was liable to become a factor 
in the productions. Not least among fav- 
orable conditions, there was always good 
money in circulation, independent of out- 
side financial influences — which decided 
me. 

A half-worn dress for a 7-column folio, 
a fine hand press, an imposing stone, etc., 
and the good will, whatever that might 

2S5 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

have been, were to be mine on payment 
of $800 within two years — a first install- 
ment of $200 being due in ninety days. 

My first number took wiell and quite a 
lot of subscriptions at $3 came in. Ex- 
penses were met from the jump, but at 
the end of three months nothing had been 
laid by, which didn't look good to me. 
When my esteemed predecessor showed 
up he still had a pain, but thought if he 
could go back to his old home in Kansas 
he would soon be all right. I told him 
how rough things were coming, but for 
a bluff asked what he would take cash 
down and call it square. He said with 
$500 in hand he could start a small busi- 
ness, and offered to settle for that. 

I had a slight acquaintance with a 
gentleman in Salt Lake who was at the 
head of a Bingham mine that was ship- 
ping plenty of rich ore, selling many 
shares of company stock above par, and 
reputed to have much money on hand. 
While standing on a city street corner 
one day, something whispered that I 
should go to him and make a bluff with 
some sand in it. Five minutes later I 
was standing by his desk. 

"Mr. Blank," I said, after exchanging 
compliments, "I want $500." 

286 



MY LAST VENTURE 

"There's lots of people in your boat, 
now same as always, that will continue 
to want," he replied. "What for?" 

I made necessary explanations, look- 
ing him straight in the eyes. It seemed 
as if I could read there that a time might 
come for him when it would be real nice 
to stand in With newspaper men. (On 
the side, that time came.) 

"Please sit down a moment and look at 
the paper," was all he said. 

At the end of ten minutes he handed 
me a check for $500, and a note to sign, 
at 7 per cent payable in two years. In 
gratefully thanking him, I said I might be 
able to find a responsible friend to back 
the note. 

"D — n that! You'll meet it or you 
won't. I'm satisfied you will if you can." 

B;ut for this whole-hearted, disinterest- 
ed kindness, my Bulletin enterprise would 
have failed. 

So, within twenty minutes after that 
lucky hunch I had the purchase price, 
and in less than an hour the sick man 
had shook hands with the sucker and 
gone on his way rejoicing. 

Soon afterwards business began to 
pick up. There was a steady run of min- 
ing patent and other legal notices, while 
commercial printing began to call for a 

287 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

jobbing outfit. I put in a good one, with 
two jobbers and an electric plant, and 
was fortunate in securing the best and 
truest all-around country printer I ever 
met. 

Lacking special mention of him — ^O. D. 
Brainerd — this sketch would not only be 
incomplete but evidence of ingrati- 
tude. Before he came the mechanical 
work had been gone over by a string of 
alleged "all-arounds" — probably as good 
or better than the place then deserved. 

Brainerd was a genius. Asking no 
questions he installed the electric plant 
and connections so they ran like a clock. 
He knew when a press needed "fixing," 
knew how to do it, and fixed it ; arranged 
the office to the best advantage, and bull- 
dosed me when additions were necessary ; 
did first-class work, laid plans to ''get 
there," and never failed to arrive. When- 
ever there was a snag ahead he rang up 
the "old man" to fill two or three gal- 
leys. 

"Los," as we called him, rarely showed 
up beforei 9 or 10 in the morning; but he 
came to stay. Then he would leisurely 
limber up his cob pipe, cuss the kid a few 
times for "leaving feathers," tie some re- 
minders on his little finger, and in a halo 
of tobacco smoke proceed to pull his 

288 



MY LlAjST venture 

coat. Sometimes he did not show up at 
all "next day." There was a wide-open 
poker .game in every saloon, and he dot- 
ed on sitting in along in the evenings, 
quitting about midnight or when broke. 
As also may be inferred, the bars were 
wide-open, all the time, and Los aimed to 
go to bed with his boots on once in a 
while. 

Did I ever call him down? Niot me, 
During five years there was never a jar 
betwieen us, coming or going. He was 
absolutely fair, as I tried to be with him, 
and took as much interest in the busi- 
ness as if he owned it. That was all there 
was to it. When "musts" were on the 
hook they would come off, if he had to 
work all night. I never imposed on him 
in any way, or he on me. I paid him 
over the city scale ; never docked him, 
and he never charged overtime. Now and 
then when the ghost walked he would ex- 
cuse himself like this: 

"Boss, I've been a piker this week ; but 
will catch even when there's lots to do." 

For two or three years Brainerd was in 
bad odor with the union — suspended — ^but 
squared things while in Bingham. This 
is how he queered himself: Work being 
slack in Salt Lake he and his wife — a 
good compositor — ^went to Ogden, a one- 

289 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

daily town. He caught on, but finding, 
as he, stated to me, that the office was 
working such tricks as a type measure 
a line too long and no standing time, on 
the second day denounced the chapel and 
left. Then he met an old friend, once his 
side partner, who was running an open 
job office. The friend was doing a fine 
business and offered Brainerd a perma- 
nent job at $2 over the scale, saying it 
was the union that was unfair, not he. 
Brainerd could well believe this after his 
late experience, and determining to go to 
headquarters with the trouble, accepted 
the offer. This is the explanation he 
made to me. Of course, he had no right 
to take the bits in his teeth and was sus- 
pended — to the delight of the sore chapel 
members whom he had denounced. 

He had been with me nearly two years 
before I became acquainted with these 
facts. All this time I had supposed him 
to be a member of Salt Lake (No. 115). 
My office was ostensibly under the juris- 
diction of that union ; but as most of the 
Utah country shops were at that time 
too poor and ornery to enforce union 
rules, they were all consigned to the go- 
as-you-please class. 

Knowing there was not a rat's hair on 
him, I determined to do all I could to 

290 



MY LAST VENTURE 

have him reinstated. Some of the Ogden 
members fought hard in opposing him, 
but it was finally settled, and Los be- 
came a prominent and useful member 
of No. 115 after paying a heavy fine. 

I was so impressed by the red metal 
possibilities of Bingham that the Bulle- 
tin, while I had it, lost no opportunity to 
"talk copper." M(y first number had this 
item in its mining news: 

IMPORTANT ENTERPRISE. 

The Bingham Copper company, recently or- 
ganized to develop the Starlus group of mines, 
may prove to be promoting one of the most im- 
portant enterprises of this camp, for there is 
abundant evidence of the fact that Bingham 
canyon, or the section drained by its springs, 
is the depository of immense bodies of copper. 
One of the springs, below the Starlus, runs a 
little over one miner's inch, or about one hun- 
dred pounds per minute, carrying 14 of 1 per 
cent copper; and as each minute slides down 
the corridors of time four ounces of copper 
thus runs to waste from this one spring alone. 
In all probability this little stream was run- 
ning at the dawn of the Christian era; and by 
computation we find that during this period 
268,861,000 pounds of the red metal have gone 
to waste — enough to make a belt for the world 
eight inches broad by one-sixteenth of an inch 
thick, and have 4,000,000 pounds left for 
"buckles and spangles." 

"Where there is smoke there is fire," and 
where there is such a steady outpouring of 

291 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

copper in solution there must be a marvelous 
storehouse to feed it. 

It was several years later before active 
copper mining began. Samuel New- 
house became interested in a group of 
claim,s known as the Highland Boy — on 
a large gold vein of low-grade — and 
forming a company put up in connection 
a $75,000 cyanide mill. Several month's 
of running at a loss demonstrated that 
copper in the ore made cyaniding out of 
the question. Below the third level it 
contained 2 to 7 per cent of the red 
mietal. 

The company then made radical 
changes in its plans — developed the vein 
down to the seventh level, enlarged its 
holdings, built a $1,000,000 smelter down 
in the valley and soon began to coin 
money — ^meantime having changed its 
name to the Utah Consolidated. 

'Mr. Newhouse relinquished his inter- 
est for a large sum, said to have been 
$4,000,000. His experience with the High- 
land Boy furnished a rare instance of 
"miner's luck." When buying it he had 
no more idea than a rabbit of what he 
was getting. Just the same, he had the 
energy and courage to try to make the 
best of a bad blunder — thus becoming the 

292 



MY LAST VENTURE 

pioneer of what is now Bingham's chiet 
industry. 

The great success of the Utah Con- 
solidated opened the eyes of other hold- 
ers of copper-bearing ground, and in an 
incredibly short time — but half-a-dozen 
years — Bingham was transformed from 
a declining silver-lead producer to a red 
metal center — ^in the west second only to 
Butte City. 

O'ne day while walking between the 
lower and upper towns into which Bing- 
ham is now divided, I fell in with Dr. 
J. B. Lamb, formerly a celebrated chem- 
ist and manufacturer of sulphuric acid. 
We were on an immense porphyry dyke 
that cuts through the district^ — ^barren of 
mineral so far, I believe, as any one then 
knew. 'He said to me: 

"This rock under our feet contains from 
1 to 2 per cent of disseminated capper. 
Fm not saying this to every one, but hav- 
ing tested many samples know what I'm 
talking about. In the lake region ore of 
even less value is being treated and big 
dividends from it declared. Some day 
this great dyke will cause a stir and de- 
velop great mines." 

He was forecasting "wiser than he 
knew." 

293 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

Within a few days E. A. Wall, who 
had operated for years in Bingham with 
varying success, located the Dick Miack- 
intosh and Clark claims near where the 
doctor and I had stood (acting on such 
a hint from him as I had received). He 
put a couple of men at work on the 
ground with instructions to drive a tun- 
nel straight into the hill until they were 
told to stop. 

They had heen digging a month when 
one day Mr. Wall called and found they 
had turned from the true course several 
points. 

''What in thunder are you fellows do- 
ing!" he exclaimed. ''Are your eyes 
crooked ?" 

"Well," said one, "we ran into such 
good indications back there I thought 
that by turning we might encounter a 
vein." 

"Vein ! Who said anything about a 
vein? You hike back, straighten this 
work out, and keep it straight or call for 
your time." 

These men, old miners, did not know 
they had been running in so-called ore 
all the time, and would have gone out 
into the open to laugh if told they were 
doing preliminary work on what was to 
be one of the greatest copper mines in 
the world. 

294 



MY LAST VENTURE 

;Mr. Wall shrewdly saw before him a 
possible great opportunity, and was sin- 
gularly fortunate in securing the atten- 
tion of capitalists. Having satisfied him- 
self by experimentation that the big dyke 
contained a paying proposition of untold 
extent, he located a group of claims and 
succeeded in selling it to what is now the 
Utah Copper Company. The transaction 
made him a multi-millionaire. 

The new owners were active mining 
men with plenty of capital, and fortunate 
in having Colonel D. C. Jackling for 
general manager. With great pluck and 
energy Mr. Jackling inaugurated opera- 
tions the character of which is attested 
by what has resulted. 

Brief reference to what this company 
has accomplished turns light on the won- 
derful transformation of Bingham, begun 
while I was still there. It began active 
work in Novemiber, 1903 — ^about twelve 
years ago. It built reductions works in 
Bingham canyon, w^hich the ore produc- 
tion soon outgrew. Then it installed 
two immense mills at Garfield, twenty 
miles distant — the nearest favorable loca- 
tion — and built a connecting railroad. Up 
to July last it had mined and milled 31,- 
500,000 tons of ore — the last June output 
having been 22,000 tons daily. The gross 

295 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

value of metal production to June 1st 
was nearly $86,000,000, and dividends 
paid were in excess of $23,000,000. The 
indicated ore remaining was 361,000,000 
tons* 

Considering that the Utah Copper 
Company, almost from its inception the 
subject of bitter and persistent adverse 
critisicm, has thus made a record rivaling 
the wonders of the Comstock in its palmy 
days, the result must be a source of im- 
mense gratification to Mr. Jackling as 
well as humiliation to the author of the 
attacks. 

There are now several other great cop- 
per properties in Bingham, though of 
lesser importance. Compare the present 
with the year before copper mining be- 
gan, when, as stated in this sketch, after 
half a century of existence the camp's 
total product was 65,000 tons of silver- 
lead ore ! 

The altitude of Binghami — 5,600 feet 
above sea level — ^aflFected me so seriously 
that my physician advised me to leave 
the mountains. An opportunity offering, 
I sold the Bulletin and removed to Salt 
Lake City, at a time when I had been 
privately informed that millions were 
about to be expended in developing the 



MY LAST VENTURE 

new mines. Five years later the popu- 
lation had increased to 6,000. 

In the first issue of the paper under 
the new management was a scare-head 
sensation reflecting on the United States 
Mining Company, owning large interests 
in the camp. Its stock was quoted at a 
high figure — alleged to have been boost- 
ed and held up by a coterie of sharp Bos- 
ton men of unlimited means. A. F. Hol- 
den was their managing director. 

The attack was based on private let- 
ters which had passed between Holden 
and the president of the outfit — stolen 
for a consideration, they had reason to 
suspect, from the safe of the company's 
Salt Lake office — indicating that the con- 
cern was in bad lines and liable to unload 
and leave a confiding public to hold the 
bag. 

(Without consulting a spiritual me- 
dium I can describe the light-haired man 
Who stole those documents, also the gray- 
haired person who paid roundly for 
them.) 

The publication caused consternation 
on the Boston and New York mining 
exchanges. United States stock went 
down $5 in a day. Something had to be 
done, quick; and the sharp clique were 

297 * 



HANDSET BEMINISCENCES 

equal to the emergency. They offered to 
buy all stock at the old price, and it is 
said soon had more than they were 
yearning for — about all there was. The 
ruse worked beautifully, restoring former 
confidence. 

Then the miraculous happened, for 
which I believe Holden managed to get 
the credit. The company held an option 
on the Centennial Eureka mine in Tintic 
(Utah) district, former heavy producer, 
gutted of about everything of value in 
sight. Many thousands of dollars had 
been expended in searching for a new ore 
body, and there was talk of giving up 
the quest when the superintendent in 
charge — a bright mining engineer — on 
his own initiative swapped ends with the, 
work and ran a drift in a direction where 
neither Holden nor any one else but the 
engineer believed there was a stringer. He 
cut into a marvelous deposit from which 
millions have since been taken. 

I have here brought in twice-told mat- 
ter, because Holden in a scurrilous way 
drew my name into the company's scare, 
and blackened me. In Boston at the 
time, it behooved him to do something. 
As soon as he heard of the Bulletin ar- 
ticle he went to the mining exchange 
and there denounced the editor (mean- 



MY LAST VENTURE 

ing me, though I had disposed of the 
paper and was in California), as a black 
mailer, declaring I had tried to work 
him personally and was now only after 
bigger game. This ruse is said to have 
had a marked effect in the restoration 
of confidence that followed. 

I could have cinched Holden for crim- 
inal libel, but only with the defendant 
in Boston, appealing the case and gum- 
shoeing. So I gave it up as a probable 
costly job. The Bulletin had numerous 
subscribers in Boston and New York 
who had learned to respect its mining re- 
ports. After that, though out of business, 
I got a leer from those who met me. 
There is nothing in language more po- 
tent to blast a man's character than that 
one word, blackmailer! 

Many incidents worth relating that I 
must leave untold occurred in Bingham 
during the years I was there. 

There is little in mining camps of the 
present, or among their present people, 
to remind one of the romance and drama 
pictured in sketches such as "The Luck 
of Roaring Fork" and "The Outcasts of 
Poker Flat." Yet acts of gallant hero- 
ism, disinterested sympathy, foolhardy 
recklessness, and not least cussedness, 

299 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

now and then hark back to the days of the 
argonauts. 

Some of the meanest as well as best 
people I ever knew dwelt in the hills. No 
one ever turns up there with the settled 
purpose of making a camp his permanent 
abiding place. If a man has a brown 
streak, or is all mean, in the wilds he 
often develops a propensity to indulge 
his meaner part, play advantages and get 
a "stake" no matter how, with the view of 
skipping to the elsewhere. Time was 
when such characters would "assume a 
virtue though they had it not," out of a 
wholesome respect for Judge Lynch or 
fear of being given so many hours to hit 
the trail. Now, their main fear is offi- 
cers of the law — too often of a piece with 
themselves and a weakness for "stand- 
ing in." 

Shortly after I went to Bingham a 
young man recently arrived was accident-, 
ally killed in the Highland Boy mine, 
leaving destitute a wife and four little 
children. The poor mother was frantic 
and in despair. Though they were strang- 
ers, neighbors not only gathered around 
the bereaved ones to extend sympathy, 
but donated a handsome sum, with which 
the widow was enabled to equip and 
stock a restaurant. Many went out of 

300 



MY LAST VENTURE 

their way to patronize her, and she pros- 
pered. For years she has been the hos- 
tess of a large hotel. Her children have 
now families of their own, while she has 
a bank acount that will support her in 
ease. How different it might have been 
if this estimable family had been left to 
the mercy of less sympathetic communi- 
ties that I have known, in states where 
people are prone to think of the rough 
denizen of the hills as half civilized. 
I love Bingham for that noble act. 

4 4 

Ed Cleary, a witty Irishman with a 
rich brogue, and Nick Castro, a sharp- 
eyed Greek — ^characters whom the whole 
camp knew — were peaceably disposed 
when duly sober and reckoned pretty 
good citizens. One night they put on 
skates, quarreled, and pounded each other 
until separated by bystanders. 

About midnight Nick adjourned to his 
cabin ; but Ed, having had the worst of 
it, lingered to drown his chagrin, like- 
wise meditate revenge. Having cooled 
his coppers with a matutinal cocktail, he 
went out to warm himself in the early 
sunshine, and was leaning heavily against 
an awning post when Nick came riding 
by on a broncho. Without a word Ed 

301 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

pulled a revolver and pumped a couple 
of holes in his adversary's hat. 

In a frenzy of rage the Greek threw 
up his clinched fists, exclaiming: 

"Hi, there, v^hat you do! You d — d 
fool, you will kill my hoss!" 

His concern for the safety of his mount 
without thought of his own danger, so 
challenged the admiration of Erin's son 
that he threw his gun at a passing dog 
and begged Nick to join him in a friendly 
jolt. They drank and became the best of 
friends. 

i ± 

A man with a "Greek" accent, natural- 
ly genial in nature but with habits harden- 
ed and calloused by weary waiting, was 
as ungrateful to me as any one I ever 
met. 

He had a hunch from the seventh son 
of a seventh son that some time in the 
more or less distant future the mines of 
Bingham would make him rich. So he 
lost no opportunity to furnish grub- 
stakes and otherwise put himself in the 
w;ay of getting in on new locations. One 
after another of his several part- 
ners, weary of always waiting, got dis- 
gusted and pulled out, leaving him sole 
owner of several claims that were better 
than they knew. 

302 



MY LAST VENTURE 

With an abiding faith in printer's ink 
this man, whose surname was Flynn, 
made it a point to stand in with the 
editor. When a good showing was open- 
ed in any of his holdings I was sure to 
be steered against it, and made notes ac- 
cordingly; so that in the course of sev- 
eral years his items aggregating several 
columns appeared in the paper — some of 
them he figured being as bait thrown 
out to buyers — in other words, free ad- 
vertising. 

One time Flynn got into a tight cor- 
ner and applied to me to help him out. 
He had never seemed to appreciate fa- 
vors — other than by now and then hand- 
ing me a bad cigar — but I thought him 
honest, and took his note for a consider 
able sum. Several years' interest had 
accrued, when opportunity knocked at 
his door and he sold a claim for $50,000. 
T!hen he removed to Salt Lake and set- 
tled in a fine home. 

Grateful for many favors, did he come 
a running to take up that note, and thank 
me? On the other hand, when I at 
length asked him for a settlement he in- 
timated that the paper was outlawed and 
worthless; that anyway I had nerve to 
dig up an old thing like that. But by dint 
of miuch talking, and aided by his good 

303 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

wife, I succeeded in shaming him into a 
settlement at a shave of 20 per cent. 

This instance was one among others so 
contemptible as to shake my faith in hu- 
man nature. Yet by no means was it 
necessary to go about with a search war- 
rant to find gratitude and whole-hearted 
friendship in Bingham. Among its peo- 
ple are some of the best it has been my 
pleasure to have ever met. 

Isn't it singular that nowadays no one 
ever sees a so-called ghost, or reads about 
ghosts not creatures of the romancer's 
fancy, while two generations ago belief 
in such things, among fanatical and ig- 
norant people at least, was so broadcast 
there were few who would not affirm they 
had seen them, or go near a cemetery at 
"the dread hour when graveyards yawn,'' 
unless they had to? Looking farther 
back — thousands of years' — even sacred 
writings seem to indicate that wraiths, 
hobgoblins, spirits and devils were then 
numierous enough to outvote real flesh 
and blood, two to one. 

I have never been able to accept any 
so-called proof that there is, or ever has 
been, communication between this beau- 
tiful world and a possible next, high or 
low, and must believe that natural causes, 

S04 



MY LAST VENTURE 

some time to be scientifically explained 
and understood, have ever led fanaticism 
to imagine it "saw things" — to construe 
the effect of late heavy suppers into 
visions and prophetic pointers. 

An instance of telepathy or thought 
transference, so-called, was the only dem- 
onstration bordering on the supernatural 
— if it was such — that ever came into my 
life. It revives a tender memory, and 
will now be told for the first time. 

At about 6 o'clock on the first night 
of this twentieth century I was sitting 
at tny table writing, when there came 
three light but distinct taps on my office 
door. I called "Come in !" but immediate- 
ly went to the door, ten feet away, and 
opened it. There was no one there, or 
near by. 

It was a moonlit night, so I could see 
distinctly up and down the street. The 
air was so cold that the creaking of fro- 
zen snow would have warned me of a 
footstep on the veranda. 

A letter had that morning informed me 
that my only brother was very ill at a 
sanitarium at Battle Creek, Michigan. 
Strangely, from the moment I arose, a 
strong impression took possession of me 
that he was at the door — that I was about 

305 



HANDSET REMINISCENCES 

to meet him — and my hand trembled as 
I raised the latch. 

My living quarters were in the same 
building, and a door stood ajar between 
the office and the sitting-room, where my 
wife was by a table reading. 

"Did you hear a knock?" I asked. 

"Yes; who was it?' 

"Stanley." (That was my brother's 
name.) 

"What do you mean?" 

"The imipression that my brother has 
been here is so strong with me I am 
trembling." 

"That is no doubt mere fancy, caused 
by this morning's letter. Did you see 
anyone ?" 

"No. There was no one near the door, 
or I should have heard a noise. I am 
convinced we are soon to receive more 
bad news, and will have cause to remem- 
ber this hour. 

Three days later another letter came, 
saying my brother passed away at 8 
o'clock New Year's night. 

The difference in time between Bmg- 
ham and Battle Creek is about two hours ; 
so it is a fact that the change came to 
him not far from the moment when we 
heard the rapping. 

I have a theory possibly accounting 
for this manifestation — presuming it w^^ 

306 



MY LAST VENTURE 



not a mere coincidence. After my broth- 
er had said farewell to the dear ones at 
his bedside, and lay dying, what more 
natural than that his thoughts went out 
to the companion of his childhood? Dur- 
ing our younger years we ate and slept 
together, and were nearly inseparable. 
There was no joy, pleasure or sorrow 
for one that both did not share. He be- 
came a machinist, I a printer. When 
not at work it was rare for us not to be 
together. He at length married, and 
I went to seek my fortune. Through the 
many years following we did not often 
meet; but he never gave me to think 
absence dulled his affection for' me. On 
the contrary, in maturity the ties between 
us seemed stronger. 

I do not pretend to account for the 
materialistic part of this manifestation — 
the knock at the door — if it was really 
a case of thought transference. I neither 
believe nor doubt, for in matters bidder 
from the ken of mortal man of what avaii 
is it to say "I believe?" Ingersoll in his 
scathing criticisms merely ridiculed so- 
called religious "beliefs." He did not 
deny, but honestly and fearlessly disposed 
of the whole subject when he said, 'T 
don't know." 



307 



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